


match.

by thiyaksokhae



Category: GOT7
Genre: Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, attempted humor, but no graphic descriptions i promise, happy birthday div, it's just mindless writing, really there's no angst, sore losers, sports clubs, this is just pure weird thiyaness, xoxo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 02:04:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13113636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiyaksokhae/pseuds/thiyaksokhae
Summary: the one in which two amazing badminton players face off in a quiet sports club on a sunday morning, and one lets the other win. chaos ensues.





	match.

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday to my best friend of ten years, div! i love you, i love you, i love you to the moon and back. thank you for listening to my weird rants and supporting my writing even though you don't know + don't care about kpop. i hope you like this <3

Sunday mornings turn Im Jaebum into a poet. Something about the gratifying way that the sunshine streams in through the blinds and paints glowing patterns all over the room, the peaceful atmosphere of laziness, the way his bed feels so comfortable even after hours of sleep, and the way the universe smiles down on him, all because he doesn’t have anything specific on his agenda for the day, makes Jaebum smile happily, and then turn over and go back to sleep.

 

That is, until he hears a loud knock. And then another. And then another.

 

With an annoyed groan, Jaebum drags himself out of bed, pushing his annoyingly long jet black bangs out of his eyes. He needs to get a haircut sometime soon, and he adds that to his mental to-do list, the one he never follows up on anyway. He drags himself all the way from his bedroom to the door of his apartment, all the while grumbling mentally about having his relaxing Sunday morning ritual—sleeping until the taste of his mouth becomes too much to stand—interrupted.

 

At the door stands his very own housemate, Mark Tuan, and Jaebum gets all the more annoyed about having to open the door for him, because technically, Mark has his own key. That came with sharing the apartment. Before Jaebum can bring that up and berate Mark about it, the redhead pushes past him, avoiding eye contact, heading to their small kitchen and pulling a pack of strawberry yogurt from the mini-fridge and opening it with a force that suggested that the yogurt had insulted his entire family.

 

Jaebum raises an eyebrow. Mark only eats yogurt, especially strawberry yogurt, when he’s extremely stressed. Not to mention the fact that Mark is still in the exact same clothes that he was in when he left for Jackson’s party last night, even though they’re a little more disheveled than they were yesterday. Mark never spends the night anywhere, so Jaebum’s curiosity is piqued. Extremely piqued.

 

One thing he’s learned after sharing an apartment with Mark for two years is that bugging the older to tell him what is on his mind never works. Mark only opens up when he feels like it, and he never feels like it when he’s asked. Jaebum, on the other hand, will only talk when asked, and Mark’s learned when to ask.

 

So Jaebum sits down at their undersized dining table, silently willing Mark to give his explanation. The redhead has downed one yogurt and is now on his second, so Jaebum now knows that this is serious. He has half an urge to ask Mark who he killed, but he knows that’s going to prolong the older’s spill preparation time, so he places his head on the table, eyes closing automatically. He’s just beginning to drift off when Mark’s voice cuts through his hazy thoughts.

 

“I feel like I want to kill something. Preferably myself.”

 

Ah, so it was about killing, only it hasn’t happened yet. Jaebum’s head turns lazily in Mark’s direction, and the redhead is sitting on the counter, legs hanging off the edge, shoveling yogurt into his mouth. There’s a stack of empty cups next to him, and Jaebum makes another mental note to buy more yogurt later. He’s not going to follow up on that either. “I see. Amusing. What drove you into feeling this bloodthirsty urge?”

 

Mark’s spoon freezes halfway to his mouth, and Jaebum can see a perceptible shudder run through him before he lifts the yogurt to his lips. He swallows with apparent difficulty, and puts the emptied yogurt cup next to its four predecessors on the counter. He folds his hands on his lap, his voice heavy with mortification as he mumbles something unintelligible. Jaebum asks him to repeat himself. 

 

“I said I slept with someone.”

 

Jaebum blinks a couple times before breaking into a huge grin. “No, you can’t have. Mark Tuan doesn’t get laid.”

 

Mark opens yet another yogurt cup, glaring waspishly while jabbing his spoon in Jaebum’s direction in an attempt to look threatening. “While we’re on that subject, Im Jaebum doesn’t get laid either, so don’t talk.” 

 

Jaebum sticks his tongue out childishly at the remark, even though it’s kinda sorta true. He hasn’t dated anyone in three years, not since… never mind. The point here is that king-of-the-asocial-population-playing-Overwatch-during-every-free-second-of-his Mark Tuan got laid.

 

(Allegedly. Jaebum still doesn’t believe it.) 

 

“Well, how did you manage it? Well, if you did in the first place.”

 

“Of course I did! Don’t you dare doubt me!” Mark lets out an embarrassed whimper following that statement, a sign signalling that he’s suffering a huge internal cringe attack. “I’m dying.”

 

“You’re going to die from lactose overdose either way, no doubt.”

 

“Don’t remind me,” sighs Mark, tapping his spoon against his bottom lip. 

 

If Jaebum hadn’t known Mark this well, he would have found the action rather endearing. For the moment, however, he’s just losing patience. “Can you just tell me what happened already? I don’t understand how having sex is such a bad thing. Was it that bad? You out of practice or something?”

 

“Oh my god, Im, that wasn’t the case.” Mark hops off the counter and takes a seat opposite Jaebum at the table. He clasps his hands in front of him. “I went to Jackson’s party yesterday, right? Because I lost a bet with that loser and that was the deal. That I—what were the words he used?— _ grace his party with my presence. _ Idiot. He knows I hate socializing. People are so hard to deal with, you know?”

 

“You’re getting sidetracked. Get to the point.”

 

“Right.” Mark takes a second to sigh dramatically, eyes dimming with awkward acceptance. “So I might have had a bit too much soju, and my decision making abilities were down. It’s kind of a haze after that, but I woke up this morning, and I’m not at Jackson’s and there’s a guy sleeping next to me, and…” His head drops into his hands, his next words muffled. “...we might have not been wearing anything.”

 

Jaebum whistles lowly under his breath, expression alight with the enjoyment that he’s finding in his best friend’s drama. “What happened next?”

 

“What do you think happened next? I put on my clothes and left. That’s it,” deadpans Mark, resting his forehead against the table.

 

“While he was still sleeping?” The lack of response is his affirmation. “That’s so insensitive, Tuan.”

 

“Don’t remind me!” Mark almost screeches, holding out his hands. “Can you see? Can you see my fingers curling?”

 

Jaebum observes the contorted digits with unamused eyes. “I don’t see anything to be all that ashamed about, other than the fact that you left while he was still sleeping. That was such a dick move.”

 

“I didn’t even find out his name,” says Mark suddenly. 

 

Jaebum frowns at that. He’s heard these stories from his classmates (he’s up to date on a lot of gossip), and getting shitfaced and having a one-night stand is generally the norm at drunken parties like Jackson Wang’s. Jaebum understands that Mark would like to forget about all of this, but that was no reason for the wistful tone to the redhead’s words. “Tuan, let me get this straight. Are you saying that you  _ wanted  _ to know his name?”

 

“What are you insinuating? That I’d like to meet him again? No!” exclaims Mark defensively, cheeks reddening. Jaebum is way too suspicious, and now he’d really like to meet this person. “I’m just saying it’s weird getting it on with someone with a face you can’t put a name on. He’s a stranger. I screwed a stranger, Im. Oh my god.”

 

Shaking his head at himself, Mark departs in the direction of the bathroom, leaving Jaebum to smile amusedly at him. Not his usual tranquil Sunday morning, but weirdly interesting in its own way.

 

“Can we go to the sports club today?” asks Mark, about fifteen minutes later, walking out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. “I need to let off some steam.”

 

“I guess. I've got nothing else to do today, and I've been wanting to play for the whole week.” The sports club down the street became their favorite place to spend their Sundays ever since it opened almost ten months ago. Jaebum got to work on his badminton, and Mark on his tennis. It helped them get some exercise and unwind after a long college week, and at the moment, it seemed like Mark really had some pent-up emotion that he needed to work off.

 

It's a silent walk to the sports club. Neither Mark nor Jaebum is known to be a enthusiastic conversationalist, and that's most of the reason why they tend to hang out with each other. Either way, Mark seems way too preoccupied in his own thoughts, only somewhat snapping out of it to slap Jaebum's arm for the shit-eating grin on his face.

 

They walk into the air-conditioned club with a satisfied sigh, Mark’s tense shoulders somewhat relaxing with the familiarity of the environment. They hand over their membership cards to the man at the counter. He knows their faces well, since they're such regulars, and has a pleasant smile for them.

 

“How's it going, Junmyeon-sshi?” asks Jaebum politely as the addressed scans their card codes, updating the digital visitor register.

 

He gives them an answer that sounds worn in his mouth, like he uses it a lot. “It's going the way it's going, boys.” The sentence makes Mark smile.

 

The badminton courts are on the ground floor while the tennis courts are on the first floor, so Mark throws Jaebum his usual little salute before ascending the stairs. Jaebum finds a few other regulars at the court, and starts a match with one of them, whose name he knows as Park Jimin.

 

Jaebum pumps a victorious fist in the air at the end of their second set, having successfully leveled the score after his narrow loss in the first set, and both of them take a break to drink some Gatorade.

 

“You know, hyung, I'm going to beat you for once.” Jimin waggles a finger at Jaebum while the other simply decides to flash a thumbs-up. As provocation or acceptance, he's yet to find out, but he knows it's definitely the first. Jaebum has a lot of faith in his badminton ability.

 

A couple people enter at that time, and Jaebum notices that they definitely aren't regulars here. For one, he's never seen them before, and there's a certain tentativeness in the way the taller one with the black Nike band over his forehead nudges the one with the long legs over to the other side of the empty court next to the one that Jaebum and Jimin are currently using.

 

Long Legs lets out a loud whisper as he's pushed over to the other side. “Don't be so bashful!” He grins in an annoyingly bright way at Headband, who mouths something at him. Judging by the scandalised look on Long Legs’ face, it probably wasn't a confession of any kind of love.

 

Jaebum chuckles to himself softly. They're definitely best friends, he guesses. Jimin picks up his racquet. “Ready to lose, hyung?”

 

Jaebum twists his bottle closed, placing it back into his bag. “You betcha.”

 

Well, that's a lie. Im Jaebum is never ready to lose. With a stunning 21-12, he breezes to his victory, leaving a flustered, panicking, red-faced Jimin in the dust. Jaebum lets out a loud “Yes!”, dramatically dropping to his knees as an expression of victory. Wiping the sweat on his brow with his sleeve, he picks himself up to give a very disgruntled Jimin an obligatory handshake.

 

“Next time, hyung,” promises Jimin through almost comically gritted teeth. He attempts to make his handshake a little firm to seal the threat, and Jaebum can't help his smile. “Sure, kiddo.”

 

Jimin frowns, offence taken. “I'm literally a year younger than you!”

 

Jaebum winks just to be annoying, and makes his way to a bench, taking measured sips of Gatorade from his bottle. His face is flushed and his clothes are beginning to stick to his body, but he's feeling good. He's feeling that adrenaline-fueled, cloud nine kind of emotion, and feels like he could win a couple more games if he was challenged now, right now.

 

Luckily, just as he's thinking that thought, one of the people he noticed earlier walks up to him and after a few seconds of shuffling his heels as though contemplating whether or not to turn back, during which time Jaebum pretends to be completely interested in the contents of his energy drink to prevent causing unnecessary embarrassment or awkwardness to the other (dealing with Mark on a daily basis has taught him how to deal with awkward people), he clears his throat.

 

“Yes?” Jaebum looks up, as though just noticing the presence of the other. It's Headband, a tentative smile on his face, somewhat avoiding eye contact. Up close, he doesn't look conventionally attractive, with full cheeks, bright eyes, soft, wavy, jet-black bangs falling over his headband and a certain stiffness to his overall demeanor, but there's something vaguely adorable yet intriguing about him. He seems like a person who comes across as the personification of a small brook but turns out to be a whole ocean.

 

“Umm, my friend kinda dared me to challenge you to a match”—a yell emanates from Long Legs about how  _ you weren't supposed to say that, you cheater of a dumbass _ and Headband pointedly ignores that—“and so I was wondering if you'd like to play one against me?”

 

“Okay.” Jaebum doesn't think before answering, nor does he need to. He's feeling in the zone, he can  _ so _ take this. Besides, he caught a bit of Headband's playing in the momentary breaks between his own game with Jimin, when he'd glance over at Long Legs and Headband (especially when he heard Headband's loud laughter, that was impossible to not turn to), just to check out their playing. Jaebum is known to be overly aware of his surroundings, so this is nothing new.

 

And Headband seemed like a pretty okay player. Probably a little better than an amateur, someone who has a bit of raw talent, and utilizes it for a simple relaxing hobby, nothing very serious. They decide to play three sets, fifteen points each. Jaebum guesses he could finish this off in two sets, clean and simple.

 

Only it's not that clean and simple. Jaebum's initially cruising at 9-4 when Headband catches up really quick, putting them at 12-11, with Jaebum struggling to keep his lead. He barely wins the first match, 15-13.

 

The second set has Jaebum a little flustered by the close score from the last set, and that's exactly what he blames it on when he actually loses the set, 12-15. He takes an aggressive sip of his Gatorade, trying not to glare too intensely at Headband and Long Legs, who are engaged in what seems to be a playful conversation, with Long Legs poking Headband in the ribs in between sentences as the other drinks water. 

 

_ Who drinks water while playing a match? _ wonders Jaebum, shaking his head. At this point, his brain is coming with all kinds of random thoughts just to not blame his anger on himself. 

 

The third set is intense, but Headband doesn't seem to be taking this as seriously as Jaebum is. Jaebum doesn't even know why this is so important to him, but he knows that at this point, he'd sell a lot of things to win. It's like his Inner Asshat™ makes its appearance during moments like this, because Jaebum is generally a pretty nice person otherwise. Mark says that it's because he wears Jockeys instead of boxers when he's playing badminton. Jaebum says that he prefers not flopping all over the place when he's playing.

 

That went off-topic. The point is that Jaebum needs to win this match. He can hear a shout of “Im, you suck!” from the side of the court and guesses that Mark must've taken a break to come and watch him. A pleasant best friend gesture, but best friends are generally supportive, so Jaebum chooses to curse Mark out mentally. Long Legs is being a somewhat good friend, pumping out different chants every time Headband scores a point. He's alternating between “Let's go, Youngjae, let's go!”, “Two, four, six, eight, who do we appreciate? Go… Youngjae!”, “That's my Sunshine, that's my best friend! Smash it, Youngjae, you can do it!” and “North, south, east or west, Choi Youngjae is the best!” It's three parts endearing, five parts amusing and ten thousand five-hundred and sixty six parts annoying to both players.

 

Between points, when Jaebum spares a glance to the side, he sees Long Legs talking excitedly with exaggerated gestures to Mark, who nods with half a smile. The appearance of that half-smile generally means Big Trouble™ for Im Jaebum, but he can't afford to guess how. He has a match to complete.

 

He actually ends up winning. 23-21, because the game got crazily extended. It was worth it for the satisfaction that Jaebum feels when the shuttle misses Youngjae's racquet for two consecutive points, finally letting him taste victory. It tastes like sweat that he didn't wipe from his upper lip and a certain dryness that his mouth acquired from breathing with his mouth open during the last few minutes of the game, but he savors it regardless.

 

He meets Youngjae at the net, arm outstretched for a handshake. “Good game,” he says graciously with a small smile. The one thing that he knows annoys every loser is the bright smile on the winner's face.

 

Youngjae smiles back, accepting Jaebum's handshake. His hands are soft, which is something that catches Jaebum's attention. He tends to notice things like this. “Well, looks like the best player won,” says Youngjae, with a rather enigmatic smile. 

 

The statement makes Jaebum glow, but he tries to muffle it out by shrugging nonchalantly. “You're a pretty darn good player yourself.”

 

Youngjae chuckles, an action that spreads light to his entire flushed face. “Why, thank you, um…”

 

“Jaebum. Im Jaebum.”

 

“Well then, thank you, Jaebum-sshi,” smiles Youngjae, eyes twinkling and curling into crescents. Only then do they realize that their hands are still linked, handshake long over. Jaebum withdraws his hand as un-awkwardly as possible (and even that's way too awkward) and walks back to Mark.

 

“Noticed you were talking to that kid,” Jaebum remarks, head tilting vaguely in the direction of Long Legs, who is currently leaving the courts with Youngjae, their laughs echoing off the walls and following them out the large double-doors.

 

“Yeah, his name's Kunpimook,” replies Mark.

 

“Kunpi-who?”

 

“Kunpimook. He's from Thailand,” Mark explains. “But he said most people call him Bambam.”

 

“Shouldn't you have just started with Bambam?”

 

“No, I couldn't, because then you'd ask me what kinda messed up name Bambam is.”

 

Jaebum huffs in annoyance at the fact that Mark knows him too well. “Okay, so what were you talking about?”

 

“Stuff in general. Apparently both of them are freshmen at a college around here. Youngjae moved here from Mokpo. Bambam brought him here because he wants to learn badminton from Youngjae.” A pause. Jaebum guesses that Mark is withholding some kind of information. His guesses are generally correct. “He also said you were getting owned. Majorly.”

 

“The fuck? I won!” protests Jaebum.

 

“I'm not sure he meant it that way,” grimaces Mark, passing his phone to Jaebum. A news article is open, the date showing that it's from almost six months ago. Jaebum raises a quizzical eyebrow, but Mark just gestures at him to read it.

 

The headline is bold and way too long. Jaebum doesn't like long titles.  _ Ilsan Boy Jang Sojun Working as Pizza Delivery Boy to Earn Money for College Wins Sports Scholarship of His Dreams by Winning U-21 National Badminton Championship. _

 

Jaebum frowns, eyes flicking up to Mark's, which are filled with suppressed anticipation. “What? So he doesn't have to deliver pizza. Great. I'm not seeing the great takeaway.”

 

“Oh my god, you are such a fucking idiot,” groans Mark, scrolling down a bit so that Jaebum can read the subtitle. That's when he sees it.

 

_ Mokpo’s Choi Youngjae puts up a brave fight, but fails to perform under pressure in the finals and settles for silver. _

 

Jaebum reads it about five times over, each time expecting the words to contort into a completely different sentence. But the picture under the words causes his baseless hope to fade all the more, because there's no mistaking those full cheeks, that crescent-eyed smile, that black Nike headband and the silver medal—bright, shining glory—nestled between the boy's fingers.

 

“But then—” begins Jaebum, knuckles white around the phone.

 

“Yes, I'm pretty sure he let you win,” deadpans Mark, taking his phone back from Jaebum's iron grip. He catches The Jaebum Face™, complete with clenched jaw and crystal midnight eyes, steely with anger. “That's not a bad thing. At least you can say you've played against a national level player now. Let go of the negative, Im.”

 

_ Let go?  _ For fuck's sake, he's Im Jaebum. He doesn't let go.

 

=

 

A week later, when they find themselves back at the sports club, Jaebum's ego has not healed the slightest. He still is not willing to accept that he was allowed the victory, but he also refuses to believe that there was absolutely, positively no way in the universe that he could have beat a national silver medalist. Who knows? Youngjae could've been having an off day. There might have been a reason that Jaebum had won that didn't have to do with hurting Jaebum's delicate badminton-concerned pride.

 

And even though there wasn't the slightest chance that Mark would've fabricated that article, Jaebum had searched up the name by himself the previous week. He did find a few articles, none of which did anything to placate his anger against Youngjae’s blatant (though veiled) condescension. He found out that Youngjae was actually two years younger than him, and had been playing badminton since he was seven years old. He also found out that Youngjae had chosen not to take badminton up as his career, instead choosing to attend college to obtain a degree in computer science.

 

But why? Why would he do that? What is he referring to when the word  _ that _ ? Youngjae’s decision to not professionally play badminton, with that level of talent? Or the fact that he let Jaebum win? (Allegedly. Jaebum still can't believe it.) The latter. Jaebum’s been so hung up on that and Mark has had to poke him between the eyebrows several times to get rid of the crease that forms there when the damn thought occurs.

 

So Jaebum decides that he’ll find out today. He'll confront Choi Youngjae and find out the truth behind the conceded victory or lack thereof, and lay the doubts in his mind to peaceful rest, regardless of whether or not his pride is equally peaceful.

 

Jimin hasn't shown up today, so Jaebum plays with someone else, a girl named Mina who isn't the best badminton player but turns out to be pretty good company, leading the conversation all on her own without seeming overbearing, even though it's only her first time talking to him. Then he plays another game with one of the older players there, the pleasant  _ thwack _ of shuttle against racquet letting his thoughts relax into a faint drone, a small smile falling onto his lips and finding a home there.

 

Youngjae hasn't shown up yet, and Jaebum guesses that he probably isn't going to, because why would a national silver medalist come to play matches at a lowly sports club prominently for perfectly average college students, who are not—what's the term?—national silver medalists. Amazing. Jaebum has used that term in his head so many times that he's almost forgotten that Youngjae fits into the same category of Homo Sapiens that he is also part of.

 

But then, around ten-thirty, Youngjae and his friend—what was his weird-ass name again?—Bambam make their grand entrance. (Well, it's actually an inconspicuous entrance but you know how Jaebum's mind works.) Jaebum is taking a break at the point, and he very nearly pours his Gatorade all over his white jersey when he notices them walking in.

 

Youngjae catches his eye, and Jaebum makes his expression as neutral as possible, trying to keep himself from glowering. Youngjae smiles and waves. Jaebum resists doing the same. Instead, his legs, working on autopilot, make him get up and walk over to the two, his question coming together at the back of his mind.

 

“Hello—” begins Youngjae, but Jaebum's question refuses to remain seated, restless and dormant, in his mind anymore. “Honestly, did you let me win?”

 

Youngjae's eyes widen. “What?”

 

“Last week,” clarifies Jaebum, anger gradually raising the temperature of his blood after being bottled up for too long. “when we played that match, did you _ let _ me win?”

 

Youngjae's face morphs from bewildered to guilty to stoic. “What makes you think that?” Bambam starts laughing at this point, eyes dancing with mischief and delight. Youngjae's head whips in his direction, and he harshly whispers, “You told him?”

 

“So it's true?” Jaebum raises his eyebrows coldly, trying to keep the anger out of his demeanor, but his jaw betrays him, clenching and jutting out slightly.

 

“No, I wasn't referring to that, I was…” Youngjae gestures a little helplessly with his hands, but then groans, smacking a still-chortling Bambam on the arm. “Bammie!”

 

There's something childish and endearing in the way that Youngjae hits Bambam with a pout, and if Jaebum wasn't seeing red, he'd find it rather adorable.

 

Youngjae takes a deep breath, composing himself before speaking in calm syllables, “Look, I'm not denying that I did let you win, because I know that if I do, you won't believe me.” Jaebum can't really argue with that. “But the truth is that you seemed like a person who takes a hit to the ego rather awfully.”

 

Jaebum's jaw drops at that. Did he just  _ literally _ say—

 

“I'm sorry, that sounds like a pathetic way to put it. But I don't know how else to say that,” sighs Youngjae, voice a mixture of apology and blatancy. His eyes dart between Bambam, who has a hand clapped over his mouth and eyes widened as though saying _ did you honestly just say what I thought you said?, _ and Jaebum, who clamps his jaw with a painful _ snap _ and nods once as though in acceptance.

 

Acceptance? Yeah _ right.  _ Jaebum just nods because he knows that his lividness is about to boil over and he can't bring himself to shout abuse at someone younger than him. Then he walks away, tapping his racquet against his palm mindlessly. He abandons it near his bag, deciding he'll walk and take a breather, because he really needs one right now.

 

All that bullshit about how the truth matters and how he will  _ not _ get mad, he  _ swears?  _ Yeah, not so much. He's hopping mad. He's about-to-throw-something kind of mad. He's not-even-cute-puppy-videos-will-calm-me-down kind of mad.  _ That _ mad.

 

Although, as he ascends the stairs to the first floor, he can't help but realize that a small voice of his mind, however quiet, actually finds Youngjae’s brutal honesty rather commendable. How many people do you come across with that level of honesty? That tiny voice has a new, rather dangerous respect for Youngjae, which is why Jaebum rushes to silence it as quick as he possibly can.

 

Jaebum pushes the double-doors to enter the tennis area, and he finds Mark playing a match against his usual partner, Jackson Wang, at the court closest to the door. Jaebum casually wanders over, a smile forming on his face as he watches the ball hit from one side of the court to the other. It's always amusing to watch matches between Mark and Jackson, because they are both equally good at the sport, but while Mark is remarkably chill while playing, Jackson is a fireball of competitiveness.

 

Jaebum yells his hello to Jackson, who responds without diverting his concentration from the neon green ball that he smacks with a ferocity that suggests that it insulted him and all his descendants. Jaebum shakes his head at him, settling himself on the bench adjacent to the court, leaning against the wooden wall, focusing on Mark's and Jackson's game because he needs the distraction.

 

The rally seems to be going on forever, with Mark looking like he’s losing energy. That's when Jaebum, the loyal best friend, takes it upon himself to give him some encouragement, getting up and shouting, “Come on, Tuan, you can do it, babe!” Using babe is one of the many entries on Jaebum's  _ How To Annoy Mark Tuan 101  _ list, and he grins evilly when he gets a shout from Mark to put a sock in it.

 

“Jaebum?”

 

The addressed freezes. Something about that voice is dead familiar, and as his head whips around, all his suspicions are confirmed. Jaebum bites down a groan. He thought he could go his whole life without seeing this male again, without even having to hear this male's name except in the occasional phone call with his mom. He's already having a bad day. Come on, Universe, for real?

 

“Jinyoung,” he says plainly in acknowledgment, hiding all his panic behind an expression of what he hopes comes across as normalcy.

 

Because this is  _ Park Jinyoung _ in front of him right now. Jaebum's high school sweetheart and only ex, who he hasn't seen in three years since their mutual breakup, because it's common knowledge that no one stays friends with their exes. Jaebum and Jinyoung are aware of that, thereby making the resultant of this unexpected meeting an obviously painful awkwardness that hangs in the space between them.

 

“You play at this club?” Jaebum can hear his own forced nonchalance echoing in his ears with the words.

 

“Yeah, Yugyeom told me about it.” Yugyeom is Jinyoung’s second cousin and neighbor, a couple years younger than them. Jaebum liked the kid, who was sweet in a way even though he could go full Brat Mode™ sometimes. Now Jaebum's just kinda hating the kid and his big mouth. Like, how dare he tell his cousin about this very amazing sports club which was open to anyone who wanted to use it? Completely against the rules. Absolutely unforgivable.

 

“Oh, cool,” mutters Jaebum blandly. His eyes flit back to Mark and Jackson, a silent prayer in his mind to get Jinyoung to just walk away, but the other just doesn't. He risks a glance and notices that Jinyoung is also watching the match as well, posture oddly stiff.

 

Before Jaebum's eyebrows have time to furrow and his mind has time to form a thought, a unusually loud sound of ball against court snatches his attention. Jackson smashed the ball across the net with an intensity surpassing his usual, and it's obvious that Mark isn't going to be able to hit it back. Obviously, Mark has realized that fact as well by the way his arms come up to shield his face from the oncoming neon green spherical attack. However, he isn't fast enough, for with a sickening smack, the tennis ball makes contact with his forehead, just missing his temple.

 

Jaebum immediately rushes to him, Jackson hopping over the net to get there faster. Mark is crouched on the ground, hand to his forehead, eyes scrunched in agony. “Mark, are you alright?” screeches Jackson at the same time as Jaebum. Mark shakes his head furiously, hand tightening over his forehead. His eyes are slightly beginning to water, and he blinks rapidly.

 

Jaebum makes him stand up, pulling his hand away from his forehead. A purplish red bruise is already beginning to form, and Jackson is losing his shit. Jaebum keeps himself together, calmly telling Jackson to get an ice pack. He gently presses the bruise on Mark's forehead, only for the owner to cry out in pain. “Shut up, we need to get your blood circulating,” says Jaebum quickly, pressing his fingers deeper against the injury and moving them in circles to minimize the bruising. Mark yells at him to  _ please stop _ , so Jaebum does, telling the redhead that it's his damn forehead, it's his damn choice to have it bruised for as long as he wants.

 

“Fuck off,” says Mark sweetly to the berate. His face is flushed with exertion and his clothes are sticking to his skin much worse than Jaebum's are, which makes Jaebum wonder how long their rally was going on before he showed up. Mark suddenly tenses. “Hey, do me a favour and don't look conspicuous when I ask you this.”

 

Jaebum’s eyebrows fly upwards at the strange request. “O...kay?”

 

“That guy over there, in the purple tee,” whispers Mark in an almost conspiratorial manner. Jaebum glances behind quickly, trying to be inconspicuous but probably failing, judging by Mark's annoyed tongue click. The only person in a purple tee behind Jaebum is (ugh) Jinyoung, who seems to be looking their way at first, but quickly jerks his gaze back to his phone after meeting Jaebum's eyes.

 

“What about him?” He's mentioned Jinyoung to Mark several times—they've had the whole conversation. Mark knows about every single detail Jaebum’s and Jinyoung's high school relationship, all except… Well, Jinyoung. Mark only entered Jaebum's life after Jinyoung had left, so obviously they'd never met before. Jaebum really isn't going to do introductions now, though.

 

“He's really there? I'm not hallucinating?” A note of fear lies embedded in that question.

 

“You haven't hit your head _ that _ hard, Tuan,” laughs Jaebum. “Besides, even if you had, I doubt you'd be having hallucinations of my ex-boyfriend.”

 

Mark freezes. “Your _ what,  _ now?”

 

Jaebum nods with a grimace. “Yeah, that's Jinyoung.” Mark's eyes widen. Jaebum shrugs. “I don't know what he's doing here either, don't ask me. It's a weird coincidence.”

 

The scarlet on Mark's cheeks intensifies for a second before draining from his face, which turns scarily pale. “I think I'm going to be sick,” he replies shakily. 

 

The seriousness in his tone pushes the panic button in Jaebum. “Oh, shit. Oh, fuck,” he curses under his breath over and over, hauling Mark in the direction of the restrooms with the delicacy of handling a grenade about to explode.

 

Jaebum closes his ears as Mark empties his insides into a toilet bowl, singing the PPAP song to himself to completely block out the disgusting retching sounds. Jaebum has always been squeamish about puking, and if he hears someone else being sick, he'll get sick himself. So for both their sakes, he keeps away and waits for Mark to finishing ejecting his breakfast from his stomach.

 

“I'm done, you helpful dickwad.” Mark's voice is a hoarse whisper, but Jaebum removed his hands from his ears as soon as he hear the noise of the toilet being flushed, so he can hear him just fine.

 

“Sorry,” he shrugs apologetically, propping the stall door open while waving his hand in front of his face. “Ugh, that's foul.” Mark glares at that, as though to say,  _ boy, don't you dare insult my vomit, _ and Jaebum puts his hand out to pull him up. Mark slumps weakly against him. Jaebum chuckles at that. The only two times that they invade each other's space is if they're sick or drunk, and the drunk part is a rarity, mostly associated with their birthdays.

 

“You wanna go home?” asks Jaebum softly, putting a supportive arm around Mark's shoulder. Mark wraps his arms around Jaebum's middle, pouting and nodding. They're secretly affection hoes, but that side of them comes out once in a blue moon, and looks like the moon is shining blue tonight.

 

The restroom door swings open and Jackson walks in, ice pack in hand and Jinyoung at his side. Jaebum fights a scowl off his face. “Hey guys, I was told you were here—whoa!” Jackson makes a show of taking a huge step at the sight of the two hugging in the middle of the tiled floor, right by the row of sinks.

 

Unreadable expressions flash across Jinyoung's face, but he doesn't say anything, but Jaebum can guess his thoughts (or at least one of them—assumptions are easy to make on both sides), and feels thankful when Mark drops his arms to his side, straightening up slightly, eyes dropping to the floor.

 

“I got the ice pack!” informs Jackson with an excess of bravado. He passes the blue pack to the one with the purple forehead, who takes it with a small thank you, gaze refusing to lift to meet his eyes.

 

A silence sets in, heavy with anticipation, awkwardness and suppressed assuming giggles from Jackson. “Well, we'll have to be leaving, since Mark isn't well,” Jaebum finally says.

 

“Yeah,” replies Jinyoung far too quickly. His eyes switch to Mark, and there's something that feels a little off, but Jaebum can't put his finger on it. “I hope you feel better soon.”

 

Mark flinches—Jaebum can feel it against his side—and grits out a thank you with a tone that suggests that it took great pain to get the phrase out. Jaebum's eyes flick between the two. What the fuck is going on here?

 

Jackson whispers a “Jaemark FTW” to him as they walk out the door, and Jaebum glares and tells him to fuck off because _ ew, that's gross.  _ Him and Mark? Never in a million years. The very thought is unfathomable.

 

Jaebum walks into the badminton courts, grabs his bag and walks out without looking at anyone. “Man, was I glad to get out of there,” he tells Mark when he meets the redhead outside as they begin their walk back to their apartment.

 

Mark sighs. “That makes two of us.”

 

Jaebum's laugh cuts off abruptly when he properly registers the words. “Wait, why does that make two of us?”

 

Mark doesn't answer, his Aura of Overthought™ making its appearance.  _ Oh god.  _ Jaebum thinks this is going to be another torturous wait.

 

=

 

It's on the way back from Mrs. Lee’s apartment (it's always nice to have a doctor living in your building complex), once Mark has been assured that his forehead hit will have no adverse effects and that taking a couple days off college will _ definitely _ not have any of those adverse effects, that he finally decides to voice whatever's been on his mind all day.

 

As Jaebum pushes the key into the lock of their apartment door, he asks the one and only question that’s been on his mind during the last five minutes that he's been using to digest what Mark said. “Let me get this straight. You, Mark Tuan, _had a one night stand with_ _my ex-boyfriend?_ Did I actually hear that all right?”

 

“In complete fairness, I didn't know he was your ex-boyfriend,” reminds Mark in defeated tones. When he started off beating around the bush, his tone had been nonchalant. Then it had gone from attempted humor to embarrassment to simmering self-hatred to simple resignation.

 

“My best friend, Mark Tuan, hooked up with my ex-boyfriend, Park Jinyoung,” mutters Jaebum as though in a daze. He wanders to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water as Mark curls up into a ball on their third-hand couch.

 

“Im, Shut up! Stop saying it that way!” exclaims Mark before the raised volume causes his headache to worsen, and he flinches violently, curling in on himself tighter.

 

“What way? I'm just stating facts.” Jaebum fills a tall glass of water and settles himself on the arm of the couch. Mark looks up at him with dubious eyes.

 

A pause. “I still can't believe—”

 

“I fucking get it,” snaps Mark. “It's a small world. Get over it. I did.”

 

Another pause. “Do you like him?” The question sounds weird to Jaebum, and it feels equally weird. He doesn't even know if he wants to hear the answer. Mark is his best friend, and that means that if he likes him, Jaebum has to be all for it, because Jinyoung is A Good Guy™. 

 

But there does lie the fact that Jinyoung was Jaebum's first boyfriend (and vice versa), and some part of Jaebum, a twisted, pathetic part, wants to be the first to move on, to get a new boyfriend. He knows Jinyoung hasn't—their moms have been BFFs for the longest time, and so Jaebum would've heard, there was no doubt there.

 

And even though the fact remains that both of them have to move on at some point of time or the other, Jaebum doesn't see why Mark had to be dragged into this. For the umpteenth time, Jaebum looks up and holds a mental finger up to whoever's up there. Like, Universe, for real? For the last time, for real?

 

But a rational part of him (yes, there exists one such) reminds him that he's getting a little ahead of himself here. So what if they hooked up? It's not like they're dating. But the eminent possibly niggles at his back of his mind. Well, he'll just have to keep his faith in Mark's ability to evade conversations with people and hope that this’ll blow over and turn into something they can laugh about in ten years.

 

Mark still hasn't answered his question, and his soft, even breathing informs Jaebum that he's dropped off. Jaebum's been through quite a day himself, between having to deal with Youngjae, then Jinyoung, let's not forget Jackson, and then having to take care of Mark.

 

He can feel his eyes beginning to close, and his grip on his glass of water slackens, and it slips out of his hands and breaks into a million pieces with a spectacular shattering noise once it makes contact with the tiled floor.

 

Mark jumps awake. “The fuck just happened?” he mutters groggily, words mashed together.

 

Jaebum lets out a yell of exasperation. What the fuck, Universe.

 

=

 

“Yugyeom, you will not believe this idiot.”

 

Kunpimook seats himself on the same side of the booth as the mentioned as Youngjae slides into the couch opposite the other two, glowering at Kunpimook.

 

“This better be good,” grumbles Yugyeom, picking up a french fry from the plate in front of him and nibbling on it. “I was in the middle of my afternoon nap and you called me and started screeching about an emergency café rendezvous.” His face is puffy and hair crumpled and messy, confirming this fact.

 

“Okay, so get this.” Kunpimook grins as Youngjae rolls his eyes, pretending to be all nonchalant even though he’s highkey freaking out inside. “Remember that dude that Youngjae lowkey admitted that he liked?”

 

“I did not say that I liked him,” sniffs Youngjae delicately, the straw from his Fudge D’lite in between his teeth, making his words seem as though they were gritted out. “I merely stated that I found him...fascinating.”

 

“That translates to you liking him, hyung. At least an eensy weensy bit.” Yugyeom pokes the air fiercely in Youngjae’s direction, looking a lot more awake now. He tries to look intimidating, but he only ends up looking like a petulant child. Youngjae finds him highkey cute. But also highkey annoying.

 

“I just found him… fascinating,” attempts Youngjae again, weaker this time.

 

“Please, you let him win that game. Choi Youngjae does not let another person win easily.” Youngjae would like to argue that being friends with him for four months has not made Kunpimook an expert in Youngjae-ology, but the fact remains that Kunpimook is absolutely correct.

 

The lack of response from Youngjae makes Kunpimook pump a fist in the air in victory and high-five Yugyeom. “So are you going to tell me what you called me here for? Give me the 411.”

 

“Honestly, after this, you're going to need 119 because I'm not sure you're going to be able to stand the life-threatening dose of  _ stupidity  _ that accompanies this.” Kunpimook shoots a significant look at Youngjae, who groans and rests his head on the tabletop.

 

“Please tell me you didn't tell him,” pleads Yugyeom. “Oh my god, did you tell him? Tell me you didn't tell him. Youngjae hyung—”

 

“I didn't tell him,” snaps the addressed, momentarily lifting his head from the table and then letting it fall back, with a painful thunk this time. Yugyeom's concern is comforting at times and annoying at other times. This is one of the annoying times.

 

“What did you do, then?” asks Yugyeom, exasperation leaching into his words. His words are getting a little whiny, meaning that he's definitely losing the small amount of patience that he has.

 

So Kunpimook tells him about the conservation between Youngjae and Jaebum, emphasising the moments when Youngjae highkey insulted Jaebum. Yugyeom is in splits at the end of it.

 

“What were you doing? Were you trying to appear cool?” snorts Yugyeom, reaching for a fry only to find his plate empty. He stares at it as thought wishing for it to magically refill.

 

“I didn't know Bammie told him that I let him win,” explains Youngjae, stirring his Fudge D’lite absentmindedly. “I panicked. Tried to save face.”

 

Kunpimook lets out a howl of laughter. “Honestly, how? By making sure he'll hate you?”

 

“Jump off a cliff, sweetheart,” replies Youngjae elegantly, reaching over to steal a potato wedge off Kunpimook’s plate, enjoying the scandalised look he receives.

 

“So what are you going to do?” asks Yugyeom. “Apologize?”

 

“I think so,” shrugs Youngjae. “If he'll ever look my way again, I guess.” A sigh, sounding regretful and hopeful at the same time.

 

“What a drama queen,” chuckles Yugyeom. “You're highkey a cute idiot, hyung. I'm sure if he looks your way again, he'll fall so hard, he won't be able to get up again.”

 

Youngjae rolls his eyes, sparing Yugyeom a sardonic smile. That won't be necessary. Youngjae just has a little crush.

 

That's all there is to it.

 

=

 

The next Sunday, Jaebum tells himself about a million times to not punch Youngjae in the face. Then he tells himself that he doesn't need to tell himself that because he simply doesn't care. Then he tells himself a million times that he definitely doesn't care. One hundred percent no fucks given. Seriously.

 

Yet, as he can see Youngjae and Bambam enter in his peripheral vision, his grip on his racquet tightens, and he sends a violent smash over the net. Jimin lets out a whine after missing it. Jaebum repeats it in his head,  _ he does not care. Does. Not. Care. _

 

Once his match with Jimin finishes—Jaebum wins, obviously—, Jaebum walks over to a bench and takes a long swig of his Gatorade, eyes on the ground, because he doesn't trust himself to not glare. He can see someone approaching him from the corner of his eye, and the panic immediately sets in. He takes a steadying breath, choosing to take another sip of his Gatorade, but it goes down his throat with difficulty.

 

Youngjae clears his throat. Jaebum doesn't look up. Youngjae taps him on the shoulder. Jaebum can't feign ignorance any longer. “What?” He sounds snippier than he wants to give away, but he can't find it in himself to care.

 

“Look, I know you don't want to talk to me.”

 

“I never really did in the first place.”

 

Youngjae sighs. “Fine. But do you want to hear my apology or not?”

 

Jaebum hesitates. “I don't see why you have to apologize.”

 

“Then I don't see why you have to be mad,” retorts Youngjae, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

Jaebum tilts his head. “Touché.” He almost smiles at the small smirk that appears on Youngjae's face. Then he remembers that he has to hate him. “Okay, go on.”

 

“I'm sorry for insulting you. I didn't mean it that way. I'm just not very good with words.” Youngjae attempts an apologetic smile before plowing on. “There's no excuse for what I said and I'm not trying to make one. I'm just… sorry.”

 

Jaebum feels a little unexplainably benevolent. Of course he hasn't completely let the offence rankling within him subside, but he can't really find it in himself to tell the other to fuck off. Generally, when Jaebum holds grudges, their strength doesn't die down until he hasn't seen the person for five years. 

 

He allows Youngjae a stiff nod, and receives a pale half-smile in response, tentative in approach but sincere. He almost smiles again, then decides against it, choosing to walk away.

 

There's a weird feeling in his chest. It's not smugness at having received an apology, and that's the fact that scares Jaebum.

 

=

 

“Still pretending you don't know me, huh?”

 

Mark’s blood runs cold at that, his water bottle freezing halfway to his mouth. His back is to the person who just spoke, but he knows for sure who it is, because all he’s been trying to do is avoid that person for the last god-knows-how-long. He's just finished a match with Jackson, who's gone downstairs to get some snacks from the vending machine. Almost everyone else has left for lunch, and Mark had hoped this person would've left too, but no. He caps his water bottle slowly, turning to face the owner of the voice with a tilt of his eyebrow. “That’s how I face my problems. Evidently  _ you  _ don’t know  _ me _ .”

 

Jinyoung’s face crumples at this, and a dangerous shard of emotion immediately pierces Mark’s heart. Then Jinyoung rearranges his features into an expression of almost normalcy, and anyone would believe that, if it wasn’t for the feelings that he was accidentally letting seep through the cracks in his mask. “So that’s what you see me as. A problem.”

 

“I don’t see you as a problem,” says Mark bluntly, his mind working overtime to put sentences together. “I see the circumstances under which we met to be the problem.”

 

Jinyoung arches an eyebrow at that. “Well, I hope you don’t think it was all that bad a  _ meeting, _ ” he says coolly.

 

Mark furiously backtracks. “That’s not what I meant. It wasn’t. I mean it was, but it wasn’t.” He takes a deep breath to steady himself against Jinyoung’s expressionless gaze. “I just wish we had met in a different  _ setting _ , that’s all.”

 

Jinyoung surveys his face in a calculating manner before choosing his next words. “Well, there’s nothing you can do change that. We met. We fucked. There’s nothing about that that can change, because it already happened.”

 

Mark flinches at the fact that Jinyoung put it in a way that raw, but he can’t contradict the truth in that. “Okay. So, if you’d known me before, you’d know my standard reaction to any of this would be to forget about it and move on like nothing happened.”

 

“ _ Have _ you forgotten about it? You don’t seem to have,” remarks Jinyoung, lips curving into a smirk. God, Mark really wants to melt into the floor and just die right there, because he knows he's giving himself away by the way his eyes keep flicking up and down, to the nervous way he's chewing his lower lip, to the way he's twisting his fingers. And also he wants to die all over again because that smirk should really be illegal.

 

“Quit that maybe, why don't you?” says Mark, his voice a tad hoarse.

 

“Quit what?” asks Jinyoung innocently, eyebrows flying upwards.

 

“That.”

 

“I think you're going to have to be a little more specific,” shrugs Jinyoung, shuffling his feet slightly. His eyes flick to the floor and back to Mark's face, burning with a strange fire. “So, one question. Do you want to me to walk away right now and not talk to you again?”

 

“What am I supposed to say if you put it like that?” complains Mark, crossing his arms across his chest. “You're not really giving me a choice.”

 

“Actually, I am. When I say it like that, I'm not trying to guilt you. I'm serious. If you don't want to associate with me, I see no reason to be around you. It's that simple. I just need a straight answer.” Jinyoung crosses his arms to mirror Mark, lips pursing at the end of his sentence. “But then again, looks like you've already given me the answer.” He looks at Mark once more, maybe hoping for a denial.

 

Of course, Mark's never been good at straight answers. He's never been good at straight anything. That's exactly what prompts him to say, “Okay, no. I don't want you to walk away.” Jaebum is probably going to kill him. But then again, it's not like he's still together with Jinyoung.

 

“Really? That wasn't expected,” says Jinyoung, trying to sound nonchalant. The smile crinkles around his eyes deepen, so he fails at the nonchalance act.

 

“I’d like to meet you all over again, to be honest. Properly, this time. Just all the way over to the beginning,” He sticks his hand out. “I'm Mark Tuan.”

 

“Park Jinyoung,” the other smiles, shaking Mark's hand, but he lets it go quickly. His eyes cut into Mark's, filling the space between them with an unexplainable gravity. Something about everything makes it feel like  _ something, anything _ has to happen in the moment. There's a swell in the air, an anticipation, because it feels like one of them has to do  _ something… _

 

…and then Jackson makes his entrance with a loud push through the double door and an even louder “Can you _ believe _ that there are no Skittles in that machine? What kind of sick club are we playing at? I'm lodging a complaint!”

 

Jinyoung laughs shakily at that, once he gets over the initial moment of surprise. Mark indulges Jackson, giving him a simple dare to do that without getting kicked out of the club, succeeding which condition Mark will buy him twenty packs of Skittles.

 

“Why not?” accepts Jackson, dumping his snacks on the bench next to Mark and Jinyoung. He grins at Mark. “Are we restarting the match? I forgot the score.”

 

Mark is tempted to call Jackson out, because Jackson always remembers the score, except for when he's losing, like before. But his ego is far more sturdy than Jackson's, so he decides to let it slide.

 

“Okay,” he allows, half-looking in Jinyoung’s direction. “Looks like we're restarting the match.”

 

Jinyoung catches the subtle undertone and winks. Holy Christ. Mark might be standing but he sure as hell just fell.

 

=

 

“I don't understand why you're trying so hard anyway.”

 

Yugyeom's sprawled on Youngjae's bed, legs thrown over the bedstead and a huge book draped over his chest. Kunpimook’s sitting at Youngjae's desk next to the owner of it, trying to get Youngjae to explain a program to him. They have their Programming 101 exam tomorrow, but all three of them are getting sidetracked too often, though Youngjae is trying his best to stay focused. The current topic of conversation is Youngjae's steadily failing attempt to wear down his stupid crush into talking to him as a friend at least.

 

“He thinks there's a heart in there somewhere,” comments Kunpimook, tapping his pen on his notebook. Youngjae glares at him. He glares at him so often that it should be listed in his CV. 

 

_ Hobbies: Glaring at Best Friend #1 who is nicknamed The Most Insufferable Bambam for highly concrete reasons _

 

“I don't know, okay?” groans Youngjae, stretching his arms out as he yawns, his back cracking satisfyingly. “Sometimes people do things with no explanation.”

 

“How good looking is he anyway? I mean, how much is going to make up for the fact that he's a sensitive egomaniac?” asks Yugyeom. “The fact that we call him Proudheart the Petty is enough to say that he's not exactly Prince Charming.” He came up with the name, and it kinda stuck. Yugyeom doesn't even know Youngjae's crush's name, but he doesn't want to know it because he wants to keep using the nickname.

 

“First of all, Prince Charming was a shallow asshole. Not in the live-action movie, that was lovely and I drowned in his eyes, but in the original story. Like, a pretty girl walks in and dances with him and suddenly he's like 'Oh, hey, I think I'll marry her because she's so darn pretty and I'll waste all my royal parents’ resources in finding this woman’? I think not. Cinderella deserved better.” Youngjae takes a deep breath after that mini-rant. He's been told that he gets a little too intense during his rants. He doesn't really care. “Second of all, I don't simply like people because they look good.”

 

“But my question is if it's a contributing factor.” Evidently, Yugyeom ignored the whole Cinderella rant.

 

Youngjae pauses for a moment. “No, just barely.”

 

“Bro, you will not believe this kid,” pipes up Kunpimook, twisting in his chair to face Yugyeom. “The times that we're there, the oblivious piece of living mass suddenly becomes the most perceptive human being. It's scary. And when he notices something, he tells me because he can't keep it in his mouth.” He ruffles Youngjae's hair, making Youngjae hiss. “It's quite cute, to be honest.”

 

“Ooh, tell me, tell me!” squeals Yugyeom. “How come you haven't told me for three weeks?”

 

“There are only a few observations per Sunday, and I tend to forget them until times like this.” Youngjae rolls his eyes at this, choosing not to say anything because he knows he'll make it worse. He's completely given up on the other two. If the universe could be nice for once and make him vanish right now, that would be awesome.

 

Yugyeom hoists himself up, sitting cross-legged and resting his chin in his palm. “Well, spill.”

 

“Okay, so the fact remains that Proudheart does seem pretty nice to everyone else. He comes across as a bit of a gentleman, actually, being super respectful to the older players and going easy on the younger players sometimes. Emphasis on sometimes, he always destroys Jimin.” Kunpimook grins, twirling his pen between his fingers as he recollects. “Also, his smile is crafted by the gods. I agree with Youngjae on that one. Like holy Christ, that smile highkey makes me want to—”

 

“Please do not complete that sentence and move on.”

 

“Okay, so sometimes his best friend comes downstairs to spend a few minutes. That kid's a cutie, to be honest. I'm calling him a kid and he's definitely older than me, el-oh-el. Anyway, he's literal proof that Proudheart can actually get along with someone like a normal human being, because he laughs around him and seemingly makes witty conversation.”

 

Yugyeom nods a couple times at this new information. “Interesting. So he's cool to everyone—”

 

“—except Youngjae hyung. Fucking right,” finishes Kunpimook, casually patting Youngjae's head, which he has placed on his desk, pouting like a child. “He's not even outwardly hostile. He just casually ignores him and gives him one-word answers.”

 

“Ouch, hyung, that sucks,” says Yugyeom emphatically.

 

“Yeah, no kidding,” replies Youngjae dryly, lifting his head off the desk and using his pencil to idly make a few marks on the textbook in front of him.

 

“Honestly, I think there are so many people who actually like your company, and you shouldn't get hung up on one person who doesn't appreciate you.” Somehow, deep life advice doesn't really suit Yugyeom, but Youngjae appreciates the attempt all the same. Yugyeom is basically handing him a watered-down, nice, helpful version of _ bro, get over him because he sure as fuck isn't worth it. _

 

Youngjae doesn't really see it that way. Im Jaebum presents a bit of a challenge. Choi Youngjae doesn't give up on challenges.

 

=

 

“I hate everything,” grumbles Jaebum for the eighty-fifth time that day. The strained muscle on his wrist twinges annoyingly, and he growls at it to shut the fuck up.

 

“Shut up, I'm freaking out already,” says Mark, fingers nervously fidgeting with the strap of the sports bag that runs over his shoulder. They’re at Korean College of Science and Technology's annual sports meet, the first of the college sports meets to take place this year. And just in time for it, Jaebum sustained a sprain on his right wrist, due to overexertion after playing too many matches without a break, which meant that he couldn't play badminton for a couple months, and that he definitely couldn't participate in any sports meets this year. He's bummed, but he's here to cheer on Mark, who got selected for his first sports meet and is a combination of pumped-up and wanting to die already.

 

Jaebum scrutinizes Mark's expression, the way his eyes keep flicking around as though searching for someone. Mark's been acting weird the last few weeks, smiling without explanation, having long text conversations with someone, leaving a couple times a week to go somewhere in the evening and not coming back until very late, sometimes only in the morning.

 

Jaebum guesses that there is a boy involved. It's not very hard to tell. Jaebum has tried to wager subtle guesses. He's mentioned Jinyoung's name a couple times but hasn't gotten a incriminating reaction from Mark, so that's a relief. Also, he has come to the conclusion that it can't be anyone from their college, because the options are limited and pathetic, and he knows none of them are Mark's type. While his curiosity burns, he knows that Mark is bound to tell him eventually, and decides to wait it out.

 

“I'm going to go watch the basketball matches to calm myself down,” says Mark, once he's checked the notice board and verified that his match isn't until later.

 

“Do what you want, I'm going to watch the badminton ones,” says Jaebum.

 

“Okay, just make sure you don't yell at the players like a grandpa watching TV,” grins Mark.

 

Jaebum shrugs, “I'll do my best.” He makes for the badminton courts, and the matches have already begun.  _ Today, _ he decides,  _ I will indulge myself and watch all the matches I want because I'm not even competing today! That'll be great! Just sitting back and enjoying the matches, it'll be nice to give my mind a break _ .

 

Jaebum asks someone in the crowd which match it is, to be informed that he's made it in time for the semifinals. He pushes through the mass of people until he can see the court and the players properly and oh my god what did he even expect.

 

Playing the match with black headband in place, a look of intense concentration on his face, is Youngjae. Looking at it in a completely objective manner, Jaebum has to admit that Youngjae is truly a fucking amazing player, and that he'd totally be supporting him if it wasn't for the personal grudge.

 

Honestly, Jaebum doesn't even know why he's still holding a grudge. His rational part has gotten a bit braver now, speaking up more often and Jaebum can see that he's being absolutely stupid. On top of that, Youngjae is actually making an effort to talk to him, and suddenly Jaebum feels like a bad person. He doesn't know why he's having a moment of realization right now, although he's sensed it in the offing for a little over a week, and he makes up his mind to apologize later today if he runs into him.

 

His moment of contemplation is abruptly cut off when a yell goes up from the crowd. He checks the scoreboard and realizes that Youngjae actually lost this set. Barely, with a two-point difference, but he lost. Youngjae has a frown on his face, as though he hasn't figured out exactly why he lost, and he sits at the bench on the side heavily, his water bottle in his hand but pretty much forgotten.

 

Jaebum realizes that Bambam isn't here. In fact, no one seems to be here with Youngjae. People seems to swirl all around Youngjae, who just sits as though detached from the world, a deep frown on his face as he chews his lip thoughtfully. Jaebum recognizes the look. It's the look of steely determination, the cogs in Youngjae's head going through all the ways he's not going to lose the next one. Jaebum mentally cheers him on. Someone has to, and he guesses that he's probably the only one in the crowd who knows him.

 

Sure enough, Youngjae comes back with fireworks, winning with a seven-point lead in the second set, a feat he repeats in the third set. His opponent began to get flustered after his first loss, so the second one was easy.

 

And yet Youngjae doesn't look happy. He nods at the few people who yell congratulations at him, a bright smile on his face, but the smile vanishes as soon as he shifts his eyes back to the ground. His gaze is lost and longing, as though hoping to see a familiar face. Jaebum's heart twinges without explanation. He's not sure that Youngjae wants to see him at all though, so he simply ducks his head until Youngjae packs his stuff and walks away.

 

Seeing that there still is about half an hour before the finals, Jaebum decides that he'll wander for a while and ends up in the empty open stadium where the awards ceremony will take place tomorrow. It's breezy and pretty shaded, so he decides to sit and enjoy it for a while. His eyes go over the other people who had the same idea that he did. There are a couple people with their eyes on their phone, a flirty couple a few stands in front of him. On the very edge of the stands sits a boy in a neon green KCC jersey that looks familiar. 

 

Yep, totally Youngjae. He sits with his arms over his knees, his chin resting atop his forearm. He looks forlorn and lonely. Before Jaebum's mind can properly react, his legs act first, making him get up and walk all the way across to the other side of the stands. He sits next to Youngjae and suddenly realizes that he doesn't know what to say.

 

The other looks at him with a bit of hostility on his eyes. Jaebum can't really blame him. He's not really done anything to deserve one of those ridiculously blinding smiles. “What are you doing here?” asks Youngjae, his voice defeated and resigned.

 

“Just came to say congratulations. You made it to the finals,” says Jaebum when his mind remembers to say something.

 

“Mhmm,” hums Youngjae plainly, turning his eyes away from Jaebum.

 

“You all right?” The answer is no, obviously, but Youngjae is going to say yes, and Jaebum is going to kick himself for asking the stupidest question in the book.

 

“Yes,” snaps Youngjae. Expected.

 

“You don't sound okay.” Seriously, Jaebum is just really bad at this.

 

Youngjae scowls. “Why do you even care?”

 

That's a fairly good question, concedes Jaebum mentally. “‘Cause you're not okay. That should be enough explanation. I'm human too, you know.”

 

“Good to know,” says Youngjae sarcastically.

 

“No, seriously. What's up with you?”

 

“You don't have to talk to me out of pity, okay?” Youngjae's voice cracks on the last syllable. “I'm perfectly fine!” His eyes fill with tears and he shuts them tight, burying his head in his arms.

 

“Hey, hey, I'm genuinely concerned, okay?” Jaebum puts an arm on Youngjae's shoulder and breathes a little easier when the other doesn't shrug it off. “You can talk to me. It helps when you talk about what's bothering you.”

 

Youngjae's shaking body steadies slightly. He lifts his head slowly and wipes his tears off with his sleeves. “I'm sorry,” he croaks out. “That was unwarranted.”

 

“It's okay, we all have these moments,” assures Jaebum soothingly. He's not too good with advice and reassurance, but the years spent with Jinyoung actually help here. That's the only thing that Jaebum will thank him for—making him a lot more understanding as a person.

 

“I'm being really stupid, you know?” sniffs Youngjae. “It's just… a lot of things.”

 

“I'm here to listen.”

 

“Really? You're not just saying that?” Youngjae glares at Jaebum suspiciously. “Because otherwise you act like you don't know me at all, and now suddenly when I need someone to talk to, you're the one the universe sends?”

 

“It's a weird universe,” chuckles Jaebum softly. “But yes, I'm serious. What's on your mind?”

 

“A lot of things. No one's here today with me. The rest of the guys from college have their events tomorrow. Bambam is in Thailand for a family function, and Yugyeom has dance practice until later. He has a performance coming up, so I couldn't even ask him to skip.” Youngjae's words are slow and thoughtful, as though he's still not sure of whether he should be uttering them or not, but he seems to overcome this hesitation as his next words speed up. “I didn’t actually tell anyone at home that I was participating in this because they’re just going to expect me to win.”

 

Jaebum can’t help but say, “That doesn’t really sound like a bad thing. You’re a really good player.” This is new. He doesn’t generally compliment people he competes against, but then again, he doesn’t often find it in himself to approach crying males and offer to listen to them talk about their troubles, so this seems to be a day of many firsts.

 

“I guess,” shrugs Youngjae. “But I kinda feel like I now have to win all the time, to not be a disappointment. Be a disappointment to whom? That answer, I’m still not even sure of. These days I feel like the pressure I put on myself to become better and better and win more just sucks all the pleasure out of playing, but I can’t find it in myself to snap out of it. I guess that I thought that if I ignored the stress enough, I wouldn’t be affected by it. It kinda caught up.” A watery chuckle. “Apparently it also has no idea about what good timing is.”

 

Jaebum half-smiles at that, pondering on the words before carefully saying, “I guess I understand. I mean, I can’t completely relate, but I empathise.” Self-deprecating jokes, another new one. “I get that you’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself, and you need to step back and ask yourself why you’re playing. You need to let go of the notion that you will only be worth something if you win, and getting past that is difficult, I know.” Youngjae offers him a shaky smile at this point. “You need to play because you want to, plain and simple.”

 

“I love how you put it in a way that made it sound so plain and simple, and yet what you just said is really darn difficult,” remarks Youngjae, a half-smile accompanying his tone. His mood is lifting, gradually, and it reflects in his voice.

 

“Yeah, I know. I’m not really good at this,” admits Jaebum sheepishly. He has a set of strong points, but situations like this are not in anyway related to the subjects which are his forte.

 

“Really? I think you’re doing quite alright,” smiles Youngjae, and Jaebum feels a weird fuzziness in his chest. He's probably getting sick. Too many new things for one day.

 

“I am, am I not?” he chooses to grin, adding a little self-pride to his tone and making Youngjae laugh. The laugh makes him feel better. Maybe he’s not too bad at this after all. “Come on, you have a match to play.” He gets to his feet and Youngjae gets up after him, eyes clearer but cheeks red. Jaebum feels a rush of protectiveness towards the boy. “Gonna win?”

 

“I’ll try,” nods Youngjae. “Do I look like I cried?”

 

The easiest lie would be to say no. However, Jaebum is a little too honest. “Yeah, it kinda does.”

 

“Oh shit,” curses Youngjae, eyebrows furrowing.

 

“Hey, but it’s alright. You’ll look fine once we get there.” Jaebum nods back, hurriedly fixing his words. Youngjae shrugs and looks at the ground, a thoughtful look in his eyes, one that Jaebum can’t really see but can sense. He can guess the millions of thoughts running through Youngjae’s head. Then he does something he definitely doesn’t expect him to do. It’s like his brain has lost control of all power today. “Do you want a hug?”

 

Youngjae looks up, alarmed, but sees that Jaebum isn’t kidding. To cover up his initial shock, he snarkily comments, “You know how to do that?”

 

“Oh, shut up,” says Jaebum, shaking his head. “Would you like a hug or not?”

 

“Sure, why not.” There’s that ridiculously bright smile. Jaebum feels like he actually deserves it now.

 

The hug is a little uncomfortable, because it feels like they both don’t know what they’re doing, but it’s also satisfying in an unexplainable way. Then again, when do hugs ever fail to be satisfying? “You ready to play?” asks Jaebum.

 

Youngjae bumps Jaebum’s fist with his own. “Born ready.”

 

The finals are intense. The first set, Youngjae barely wins with a three-point lead. Jaebum stands towards the front of the crowd. He doesn’t cheer, because it’s something he finds himself incapable of doing, but he’s always ready with an encouraging smile or nod when Youngjae catches a second to turn and look back at him. It’s almost as though the other is checking to see if he’s still there, which makes Jaebum feel appreciated for some reason.

 

“Finish this off in one more set, yeah?” suggests Jaebum, giving Youngjae a thumbs-up at the end of the first set.

 

Youngjae flicks his bangs out of his eyes and holds up a thumbs-up in return. He doesn’t fail to follow up on that, finishing the second set with a narrow two-point lead after having the game extended point by point all the way upto to twenty-two points from fifteen. At the end of the set, Youngjae falls to his knees, exhausted and Jaebum’s clapping in genuine happiness.

 

It’s definitely a day of many firsts. Jaebum’s enjoying it.

 

=

 

Yugyeom pushes through the crowd hurriedly, mumbling swear words under his breath. He skipped out of dance practice early for this sports meet because both Jinyoung and Youngjae had asked him to come, even though only Youngjae was participating.

 

He makes his way to a place where he can see the court, and he sees Youngjae stand up and walk over to the net to shake hands with his opponent. The match is over? Well, fuck.

 

The scoreboard informs him that it was the final that he missed, and that Youngjae actually won. Yugyeom shakes his head affectionately. What should he have expected?

 

What he doesn't expect is what happens next, when Youngjae turns around to beam at someone on the sidelines. It's that pathetically-reeking-of-crush-itis kind of grin, and unless Yugyeom is awfully mistaken, Youngjae's crush, Proudheart the Petty, is actually here. 

 

And Youngjae is smiling at him? That's crazy. Had Youngjae caught another crush on someone in the few hours that he was without Yugyeom or Kunpimook? That's crazy. What the fuck was going on?

 

Yugyeom follows Youngjae's gaze and watches as a male detaches themselves from the rest of the crowd and strides quickly over to Youngjae, who he hugs tightly. The hug is crazily adorable, and while Yugyeom can't distinguish it from the surrounding cacophony, he can tell that Youngjae's laughing and saying something to the other boy, who's smiling equally brightly.

 

That's when Yugyeom realizes that the other boy actually looks familiar. He squints, mentally going through his database of faces.

 

He claps a hand to his mouth.  _ No fucking way. _

 

=

 

Turns out that Youngjae is so much more than what he seems, which is what Jaebum figures out as they walk together, heading to the food stalls to get lunch. 

 

Youngjae's really opened up now, chattering about this, that and the other. Jaebum has finally found someone who shares his music taste, and he silently thanks the universe for that.

 

“I should warn you, if you're choosing to talk to be, I tend to ask really random questions like, all the time.” Youngjae had warned as they left the badminton courts, face flushed and happy. Turns out that those questions kept the conversation going, and made Jaebum discover that he actually had opinions on things that he hadn't really thought about.

 

“Okay, but DAY6 are legends, okay?” says Youngjae as the topic turns into bands that need more appreciation. “People should stop sleeping on their talent. That's just a crime.”

 

“Amen to that,” seconds Jaebum as they find a place to sit and eat. “Like, I Loved You is probably my favourite song.”

 

“Really? Congratulations is probably my favourite,” says Youngjae, taking a mouthful of his ramyeon. Unbelievable. There are ten food stalls with a number of options each, and Youngjae chose ramyeon.

 

They talk between chews, jumping from topic to topic. Suddenly, Jaebum looks at the time and realizes that Mark's event would've started an hour ago. Shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Conveying his surprise and panic to Youngjae in a flood of swear words, Jaebum rushes off to the tennis courts, hoping against hope that he hasn't missed Mark's playing completely.

 

Mark actually made it to the semis, which were going on right then. Jaebum just manages to catch the last few minutes of the match, just enough to witness Mark lose. He didn't even lose with a close score—the last set ended 6-2. 

 

But Mark is still laughing when he goes to the net to shake the hand of his opponent. Jaebum guesses that he gave up on victory prior to the end of the match. Hmph. Just like Mark to do something like that. Jaebum shakes his head affectionately and decides to make his way over to apologize and give him some post-match compliments.

 

He's nearly there when he hears someone else's voice and ducks behind the bleachers, peeping out from between them to observe Mark and the person he's talking to. A series of thoughts fill his head.

 

1) What the fuck is Jinyoung doing here?

2) When did they start talking?

3) Shit. I should've guessed.

4) Holy fuck. The stars are shining in Mark's eyes.

5) Are they dating? Are they? Are they?!

6) Calm Yourself™, Im. They're just talking.

7) Did they just—

8) Oh my god. I'm actually seeing this right. This is not an awful twisted nightmare.

9) Holy fuck. This is not okay. This is  _ not okay— _

10) Going into Panic Mode™ and about to make a Stupid Decision™ in three, two—

 

“Does hiding in the bleachers give you a better view of the court?” 

 

Jaebum jumps a mile. “Fucking hell, Youngjae, clear your throat or something next time, why don't you?”

 

The other grins. “Nah, this was more fun. Now out of curiosity—”

 

“—of which you have a lot, I'm sure.”

 

“You know me so well already,” quipps Youngjae. “Care to enlighten me so as to why you're hiding here?”

 

Jaebum glances once more at where Mark and Jinyoung were a minute ago, but they've left, leaving an acidic feeling in Jaebum's blood. “It's a long story.” He steps away from his hiding place and dusts down his clothes just to have something to do with his hands. He shakes his head with a tight smile. “Nothing of importance.”

 

“If you say so,” allows Youngjae as they begin walking away from the tennis courts and to the open stadium.

 

As the conversation progresses, Jaebum's responses turn increasingly preoccupied and half-hearted, and finally Youngjae says, “You know, things that aren't of importance don't generally take up this much brain space.”

 

“Uh huh,” replies Jaebum, eyes unfocused before they snap back to reality. “Wait, what?”

 

It's stating the obvious, but Youngjae makes an attempt. “You've got a lot on your mind, don't you?” Jaebum doesn't respond. “You know sometimes when you say things out loud, it helps.”

 

He sounds so earnest and sincere that Jaebum can't help but smile slightly. “Okay,” he accepts, taking a deep breath. “My best friend is dating my ex behind my back.”

 

Youngjae is silent for a couple seconds. “You know, you need to get your definition of ‘nothing of importance’ re-evaluated.” Jaebum laughs at that but Youngjae continues, “No, I'm serious! That's not not a big deal, y’know? To be completely honest, your best friend should tell you when they're dating someone. It's like part of the Universal Best Friend Code.”

 

“I know,” says Jaebum, chewing on his bottom lip in thought.

 

“And regardless of whether you broke up with that girl or not—”

 

“That boy,” corrects Jaebum immediately. The correction comes so fast, it's almost mechanical. He's had to correct a fair few people.

 

“Oh.” Youngjae's eyebrows fly upwards. “Cool.”

 

“Please tell me you're not homophobic,” groans Jaebum. Jesus Christ, they've only been friends for a couple hours. It'd probably be a new record for shortest friendship if he had to walk away now.

 

“I don't think you can afford to be homophobic if you're bisexual,” chuckles Youngjae, an effort in the words to make them come off as more nonchalant than they actually are.

 

“Well, alright then,” shrugs Jaebum, catching Youngjae's hesitant smile and returning it.

 

“Right.” A second of silence. “And by the way, how do you even know they're dating?”

 

“I was hiding in the bleachers and I see them talking.”

 

“I hate to be that person, but there's nothing wrong with talking, you know.”

 

Jaebum's eyebrows furrow in half-exasperation, half-anger towards the other two. “Something wrong with kissing, then? What about that?”

 

Youngjae's eyes widen. Jaebum wants to pat his shoulder and say  _ same, I know, right.  _ “That's different, obviously.”

 

Jaebum's eyes are filled with a blurred disappointment and outlines of anger, a million miles away and yet right there. “Mhmm, no kidding. It was like one of those really quick kisses and then my best friend's looking around the rest of the court quickly, and then he says, 'I can't believe he didn't show up.’”

 

“That's you, isn't it?”

 

“Yup. I'm the bad best friend,” sighs Jaebum. “I just can't believe he didn't tell me about both of them. It's unfair.”

 

“Looks like you're both at fault here,” muses Youngjae. “Are you going to talk to him about it?”

 

“No,” says Jaebum. “If I call him out, he'll get mad at me. I'm not sure I can deal with that. I live with this person, for Christ's sake. I'm going to wait for him to tell me himself. That's better on the whole.”

 

Youngjae smiles. “And here I was, thinking you lacked the capacity to be nice.”

 

“Easy to make that mistake. I'm not nice to very many people.” Jaebum rests his chin on his knees, a smirk embedded in his words. 

 

Youngjae laughs, bright and clear, and Jaebum can't help but smile too, thinking,  _ looks like you found your way onto that list, Choi Youngjae. I don't know how, but looks like I'm being nice to you now. _

 

=

 

“You never showed up!” complains Mark as he meets Jaebum at the college parking lot.

 

“I got the timings mixed up,” lies Jaebum smoothly. “And when I couldn't find you anywhere after that. And my texts and calls weren't going through.”

 

“My phone died in the morning, I forgot to charge it last night,” explains Mark, getting into the driver's seat.

 

“Mhmm, okay.” Jaebum stays as silent as Mark all the way home. He wonders if he's the only one who can feel the strange heaviness in the air, because Mark seems at ease, eyes on the road and humming DAY6’s You Were Beautiful.

 

Either that or he's just inconspicuously ignoring Jaebum, who swallows his words and stares out the window like a sulky five-year-old. 

 

Looks like a Best Friend Fight™ might be brewing, and Jaebum's gearing up. This is probably not one they're going to get over all that easily.

 

=

 

Yugyeom's words have a edge to them. “Yo, who was that you were hanging out with?”

 

Youngjae's eyes snap to him, a smile rippling across his face. “That was, um…” A guilty grin. Yugyeom knows what that means in Universal Best Friend Code.

 

“For real?” he squeals, pretending to be surprised. “Proudheart the Petty? For real? You're friends or something now?”

 

“Let me fill you in,” grins Youngjae, abandoning his laptop to take a place on the bed next to Yugyeom. There's a palpable air of excitement about him. Ah, crush-itis. What an adorably powerful force.

 

Yugyeom makes jazz hands. “Oh, I  _ so _ want to hear this.” The truth in those words runs a little too deep. Scratch that,  _ way  _ too deep.

 

=

 

Mark wakes up to find the space next to him empty. Of course, Jinyoung’s up early like usual. With a sleepy groan, Mark pulls his sluggish self out of bed and takes his spare set of clothes into the bathroom with him, taking a shower and removing all traces of the morning from himself.

 

After having successfully made himself presentable (of course, it’s not like Jinyoung cares, but even so), Mark walks to the small living room of the apartment, where Jinyoung is putting together a sandwich in the corner called the kitchen, his glasses pushed up his forehead into his raven-black hair. Mark makes his way over to him, a soft smile on his face from observing the amount of concentration that Jinyoung has when it comes to his food. Jinyoung always brings out the softness in him. It’s unexplainable.

 

“Morning,” says Mark, and Jinyoung looks up from his multi-layered sandwich to give him a smile and a gentle kiss, prompting all the butterflies in Mark’s stomach to wake up and start happy-dancing. Mark feels like it’s going to be a good day. 

 

He fills a glass of water and raises it to his lips, noticing Jinyoung watching him with an indescribable look, almost like he wants to say something. Mark puts the glass down and raises his eyebrows. “What?”

 

Patches of the palest pink blossom across Jinyoung’s cheeks. He takes a breath and blurts out, so quick that Mark can barely distinguish one word from the next. “I really like you.” 

 

Once Mark is sure that he heard it right, he takes a few seconds to process it. Up until this point, everything to do with their—he doesn’t even know what to call it? Friendship? Relationship-ish?—interactions has been obviously couple-like, from the kisses to the late night movies and the staying over, but there was never really a confession, so Mark had been perennially confused so as to what exactly they were.

 

Obviously, now he knows that Jinyoung was too, only Jinyoung had the guts to say something about it.

 

“I like you too,” says Mark, the words sounding weird in his mouth. It’s a nice kind of weird, though. He’d like to get used to saying it.  _ Park Jinyoung, I like you. _

 

Jinyoung’s smile is huge, with crinkles forming near his eyes, and he nods once in response. “Does this make us—?”

 

He can’t bring himself to say it, but Mark knows what’s being implied, and he nods back. “Yeah.” So it’s official. Mark Tuan found someone to go out with him.

 

Yeah, he can’t believe it either.

 

After lazing around for the entire morning and attempting to finish the season of Supernatural that they were watching the previous evening, Mark decides to leave around noon. Jinyoung protests, burying his head in Mark’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around Mark’s waist. “Can’t you just spend the day with me?”

 

“Can’t, Nyeong,” laughs Mark. “I told Jaebum I’d meet him for lunch.”

 

Jinyoung’s smile slips into one vaguely sardonic, the way it generally does if Mark happens to mention Jaebum’s name. “You gonna tell him?”

 

“I don’t know,” shrugs Mark. “I’ve avoided saying anything so far because, well…”  _ I wasn’t even sure I could call you my boyfriend. And you’re my best friend’s fucking ex-boyfriend, for god’s sake. And I met you because I had a one night stand with you, and telling him that was weird enough.  _ Telling Jaebum has a lot of implications on Mark’s end, which he doesn’t want to think about. Maybe he’s selfish for that, and he does feel bad for not saying anything, but he has to do what he has to do.

 

“Yeah, I know. But are you going to tell him now?” asks Jinyoung.

 

“Maybe.”

 

He doesn't. Jaebum has his laser glare on for the whole lunch, but Mark just ignores it and talks about how he's cracked the one hundred and seventeenth level of Candy Crush. Jaebum nods along, but he doesn't really attempt to hide that he's waiting for Mark to say something.

 

Mark doesn't even know why it's so hard for him to say it. It's getting harder to deal with Jaebum's glare, though, so it's just a matter of time before he cracks. And he’s sure that he doesn't want to be himself when he does.

 

=

 

Jaebum's not sure of how to react the first time that he sees Youngjae back at the sports club after the sports meet, so he just smiles.

 

The smile goes a long way, because Youngjae doesn't stop smiling for the whole day.

 

They have ridiculous conversations during their breaks, and Bambam joins in too. Turns out the kid isn't as annoying as Jaebum thought, although he is rather crazy.

 

Youngjae has temporarily stopped playing competitive matches, but he keeps playing at the club. He even plays against Jaebum sometimes if the other is feeling up to it.

 

Jaebum's getting better at losing. Well, not better at losing, but he's being a better loser. He insists that Youngjae not go easy on him, and then proceeds to complain like a child when Youngjae beats him.

 

The complaining is annoying, but it's endearing, because it doesn't come across as something to take seriously. Jaebum even laughed the last time the process of Losing To Choi Youngjae™ began, which is what he calls the point in the game when he's sure he can't win anymore. Youngjae's heart still hasn't recovered from the tremors that were caused by that laugh.

 

Jaebum worries, because all of a sudden, he’s looking forward to going to the sports club more and more each weekend. That can’t mean anything good. Hopefully it just means that he’s eager to lose. Yeah, that’s all. That’s it.

 

=

 

It’s a random, lazy Thursday evening at the clothing store where Jinyoung works when a column of fire and fury bursts into the peaceful store, vexation pulsing in its demeanor and directed right at Jinyoung.

 

The column’s name is Jaebum, and he has more than good reason for his dramatic entrance, as he repeats in his head as he weaves through aisles to get to Jinyoung.  

 

Jinyoung's adam's apple bobs as Jaebum gets closer, glare so intense that Jinyoung feels the need to shield his eyes. “What did you do?” grits out Jaebum.

 

Jinyoung feigns ignorance, raising his eyebrows questioningly. “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean that my best friend is sitting at home right now stuffing his mouth with strawberry yogurt,” explains Jaebum, realising belatedly that that means nothing to anyone but him.

 

“So?”

 

“I mean that he's being the image of a brokenhearted idiot and binge-watching Descendants of the Sun.” Jaebum shoves Jinyoung's shoulder, not hard enough to cause him to move, but hard enough to make a point. “I'll ask you again,  _ what _ did you do?”

 

Jinyoung glares back, but he doesn't pull it off in as amazing an intimidating manner because he's harbouring guilt. “Why would I have anything to do with it?”

 

“Don't play dumb with me. Don't insult my intelligence,” says Jaebum angrily. “I know you two are together.”

 

“Correcting your language here— _ were  _ together,” says Jinyoung obnoxiously, feeling his insides burn as he says that. “And I see that he told you.”

 

“He didn't, actually,” clarifies Jaebum. “I found out like three months ago. He still hasn’t said anything. But here’s the thing. He doesn’t need to say anything because I’m smart enough to figure things out myself.” The words come out in such a rush that Jaebum takes a second to catch his breath. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

 

Jinyoung stares at him for a long second, seeming as though he’s going to punch, and then finally pushes out the words from his mouth as though they cause him physical pain. “We got into a fight, okay?”

 

“And you broke up because of that?” sneers Jaebum. “I see you haven’t changed.”

 

“Hey!” Jinyoung whisper-shouts so that his boss won’t be able to overhear the conversation. “That was a low blow.”

 

“I’m stating the truth,” says Jaebum, his tone cold and cutting. “You were unable to deal with the slightest glitch in a relationship three years ago, and I thought that time would’ve changed you at least by the slightest degree, but I guess I was wrong. And it was alright between the two of us, but I’m not standing by and letting you do this to Mark.”

 

Jinyoung doesn’t say anything.

 

“And do you even know how much he likes you? He hasn’t said anything to me but I can pick up the vibe from a mile away. You’re so lucky to have him, Jinyoung, and I’m not saying that because I’m his best friend.” Despite the fact that Jaebum is still angry because Mark hasn’t said anything to him, even after months, the fact that Mark is in distress right now takes higher priority over all other resentment. And if it means that Jaebum has to endure talking to his ex-boyfriend, so be it.

 

“Don’t lay the guilt on me,” says Jinyoung fiercely, but something in his tone gives away the fact that he’s threatened, that he’s losing his ability to defend himself here.

 

“I’m not laying the guilt on you. I’m trying to get you to see sense. Are you that stupid?” Jaebum has been told that he comes across as aggressive, and this time, he’s not in the mood to try and minimize that.

 

A long moment of silence, when Jinyoung stares at the floor as though the answer lies engraved there. “No, I’m not.”

 

“I thought so.” Jaebum’s shoulders relax just the slightest. “Relationships are about communication, for God’s sake, and they’re not going to be perfect. I get that you’re a hopeless romantic but I don’t want you to end up… hopeless.”

 

Jinyoung’s eyes are like tunnels, dark and empty and resonating with the slightest disturbance from the cloud of emotions situated at the very end. “Do you think he’ll accept it if I apologize?” says Jinyoung finally, a gravity to his words that reflect their seriousness.

 

“Yes, just please apologize,” sighs Jaebum in a mixture of exasperation and relief. 

 

“Okay, I’ll call him after work,” promises Jinyoung, with a nod.

 

Jaebum shakes his head firmly. “Nope, I don’t think so. If you think I can go two more minutes of listening to a combination of Mark’s inhuman sadness noises combined with the drama dialog, you’re fucking mistaken. You’re coming with me. Right now.” 

 

“Right now? But I have work!” protests Jinyoung, quite correctly, in his belief.

 

Jaebum looks over at the man talking to the employee at the counter. “Is that your boss?”

 

“Yes, but—” Jinyoung doesn’t even get to complete his sentence before Jaebum stalks off towards the counter and talks to the large man in the company shirt stretched over his large stomach. “Hi, I’m Jinyoung’s best friend. His cat was hit by a car, and so would it be okay if he could come see her at the vet’s?”

 

The boss consents immediately, “Of course, of course! Jinyoung, I hope your cat feels alright.”

 

Jaebum nods and pulls a gaping Jinyoung away through the double doors. “You’re fucking welcome.”

 

“I don’t have a cat,” says Jinyoung.

 

“Well, I did, and she got hit by a car, okay? My pain is yours and all that shit, even if that line comes three years late,” snarks Jaebum, getting into the driver’s seat of the car and revving up the engine.

 

Jinyoung rolls his eyes as he gets into the passenger’s seat. “See, this is exactly the reason why we’re not together.”

 

“Better for world peace,” remarks Jaebum plainly, and Jinyoung can’t help shaking his head with a small smile at that.

 

The short ride back to Jaebum’s and Mark’s apartment is absolutely silent, and Jinyoung’s putting words together in his head while Jaebum’s worrying about Mark all over again, although the worry has substantially lessened. Also, Jaebum hopes that Mark hasn’t reached the wine bottle scene yet because he always starts crying like a hopeless fanboy and Jaebum isn’t sure of whether he’d want Jinyoung to see him in that state.

 

Jaebum pokes his head inside the living room just to check that Mark is presentable. Luckily, the redhead is just as he was left - on the couch wrapped up in his Death Note comforter with his eyes glued to the laptop and headphones on, a stack of yogurt cups next to him and yelling insults at the screen. “What the fuck, man? She loves you, why can’t you see that? You’re stupid. She’s stupid. You’re all stupid. Just say you love each other. Useless fucktards.” He looks up and sees Jaebum peeking in. “Did you get my strawberry yogurt refill?”

 

“No, I got you something better,” says Jaebum dramatically, and opens the door wider so he can walk in first and Jinyoung can follow.

 

Mark’s eyes widen. “What?”

 

“I’m pretty sure you know that I’m not an idiot,” shrugs Jaebum, but he’s holding down a grin. He wants to photograph Mark’s expression and hang it up on a wall because it is priceless. “And besides, you two are awful human beings who sneak around behind my back and then plot twist, I end up fixing your fucking problems. I’m not appreciated enough, I swear.”

 

Mark closes his mouth, probably mindful of the high risk at which insects could fly in. “How’d you find out?”

 

“I found out at KCST’s sports meet,” admits Jaebum, and Mark claps a hand to his mouth. “I was going to let you tell me on your own. You never did.” Only now does he let a bit of hurt color his words.

 

“I’m sorry,” says Mark softly, and as short as the sentence is, he tries to make it mean so much more.

 

“Nah, it’s all right,” shrugs Jaebum, back to his teasing self. “I’ll be in the room. Just warn me if you’re going to do something that requires me to wear headphones.”

 

“You’re a gross human being,” spits Mark, as Jaebum walks to his room, holding up a thumbs-up. Mark turns to look at Jinyoung, who’s been standing silently all this time, and raises his eyebrows with a silent question.

 

Jinyoung walks towards him and sits next to him, and Mark leans his head on his shoulder, a nonverbal way of saying that all is forgiven. Mark’s hand finds Jinyoung’s and squeezes it tight as Mark snuggles into Jinyoung’s side, a soft smile finding its way onto his face when Jinyoung drops a kiss onto his flaming red hair.

 

Jaebum pretends he did not catch all of that from his amazing view through the slightest crack in the door. He chuckles to himself, because as weird as this is, they’re a cute, cute couple. His phone buzzes.

 

**From: National Silver Medalist Dude**

so???? did you succeed in your mission????

_ 19:45 _

 

**To: National Silver Medalist Dude**

yup i think i did alright

_ 19:46 _

 

**From: National Silver Medalist Dude**

no regrets?

_ 19:46 _

 

**To: National Silver Medalist Dude**

nope, none :)

_ 19:47 _

 

=

 

“Yeah, so the newest movie in the First Inspector K series came out and I was thinking of going to see it. Wanna come with?”

 

It’s casual. Nonchalant. Youngjae is internally having a meltdown as he says the words.

 

Jaebum takes his own time to screw the cap on his water bottle, pretending to mull deeply on that question. Only when Youngjae smacks him on the shoulder does he start laughing and say, “Sure, why not.”

 

Youngjae smiles, having an internal celebratory freak-out. They're pretty good friends now, but they haven't even spent time together outside the sports club. Kunpimook has been bugging him for weeks to say something, but Youngjae kept chickening out, only relenting today because Kunpimook said that he'd ask himself if Youngjae didn't, and Youngjae knows that Kunpimook's daring enough to actually do that.

 

The next day, two hours before he has to meet Jaebum, he's having another meltdown, but this one isn't all internal. Kunpimook yells, “Youngjae, if you don't stop freaking out, I will break your PS4!”

 

Youngjae stares at him, hand to heart. “You wouldn't dare.”

 

“You don't want to test me.” Kunpimook pretends to glare for a second before his face morphs into a huge grin. “Yeah, right. Like I'd do that. Lighten up, Sunshine.”

 

Youngjae rolls his eyes. He's not freaking out about the usual things, like what to wear or what to say. This is just a change of setting, and Youngjae hates any kind of change, as welcomed this particular one is. Crisis is under the Terms and Conditions section of Change, the one that everyone skips over. “Shut up.”

 

“Alright, c’mere.” Kunpimook beckons Youngjae closer, wrapping the older in a huge hug. Kunpimook is a Master Hugger™, so Youngjae calms down just the slightest. “Stop freaking out. This is not a date, as much as you might wish it was.”

 

Youngjae groans and goes to punch Kunpimook in the stomach, but the other just laughs and holds Youngjae a little closer, not as a comforting gesture but just to restrict Youngjae's movement. “Aww, you baby,” coos Kunpimook. “Listen to me. That's not necessarily a bad thing. You're under no pressure, okay?” 

 

Youngjae pouts but listens. Kunpimook generally comes across as hyper and missing a few screws, but he's good in a crisis, which is good news for Youngjae, because he's really bad with them.

 

“You're going to do great, Sunshine,” encourages Kunpimook as he releases Youngjae and pumps a fist in the air. “I'm rooting for you!”

 

“You're such a soccer mom, Jesus Christ,” remarks Youngjae, attempting to smile despite the hurricane of the side effects of overthinking raging inside him. “I'll do fine, Eomma.”

 

“Exactly, that's the spirit!” Kunpimook shoots finger guns while making a derp face, making Youngjae laugh.

 

Jaebum is exactly six minutes late, and even apologizes for that. He's wearing a black hoodie with jeans, his hair rumpled like he didn't have time to comb it. They barely exchange a few words as they make their way to the ticket counter.

 

As it turns out, tickets for the First Inspector K movie are sold out, and the woman at the ticket counter doesn't offer them amazing alternatives. “Well, you can either go for It, or you can buy tickets for the next movie for the kid's special series. Those are the only options we have left.”

 

Youngjae turns to Jaebum, who whispers, “We are _ not _ going for the scary clown movie.” It’s adorable, and Youngjae wants to gush about how cute and scared Jaebum looks at the prospect of going for a ghost movie, but he merely shrugs in response. “You want to go for an animated one instead?”

 

Jaebum shrugs in response, like it doesn't matter to him either way, but he very obviously prefers that option, so they both buy their tickets and make their way to the screen.

 

Almost two hours later, both of them leave the theatre with contrasting moods. “What the fuck do you mean, that was a good movie? I hated it!” complains Youngjae.

 

“Okay, honestly, that was a good movie. There are way worse,” defends Jaebum, as they begin walking down the street to the nearest McDonald's.

 

“No way. That just totally the worst defense you could have used. You can’t say that a robber is a good person because serial killers exist too, okay?” Youngjae exaggeratedly rolls his eyes. 

 

“You’re suddenly so feisty, what happened?” chuckles Jaebum teasingly, and Youngjae shoves his shoulder, saying, “Shut up.”

 

Jaebum laughs. “It’s cute.”

 

Youngjae shoves him again, trying not to blush. “Go away.”

 

Jaebum smirks. “Nah, ‘m not going away for a while.”

 

Well, that’s alright. A while is fine. The next three hours are fine. Youngjae’s fine. A+. Seriously okay. Totally not completely gone for Im Jaebum. He’s fine. Eff, eye, en, ee.

 

=

 

It’s another one of those days, the one where nothing really seems to go right. Jaebum sniffs violently but his nose will not cooperate, and his head throbs painfully. The words on his screen blur before his eyes and he knows he can’t go on like this. He needs to take a break.

 

He shuts his laptop and keeps it aside, walking to the living room to find it empty. Of course, Mark told him a couple hours ago that he was going out. Jaebum thinks of watching TV but he doesn’t want stare at a screen because he knows that his head will hurt all the more. He turns his phone over in his hand. Should he?

 

**To: National Silver Medalist Dude**

hey you free now|

 

The cursor blinks a couple times and Jaebum erases the message. Youngjae is good company but Jaebum can’t expect him to be up for hanging out every time he texts and some part of Jaebum doesn’t want to receive a  _ maybe another time, hyung, _ especially not from Youngjae. He frowns. He doesn’t know where the especially part came from.

 

His phone buzzes.

 

**From: National Silver Medalist Dude**

hey you up ._.

_ 21:12 _

 

Jaebum smiles, fingers turning on autopilot as he texts a reply.

 

**To: National Silver Medalist Dude**

yup why wouldn't i be it’s only 9:15 smh

_ 21:12 _

 

**From: National Silver Medalist Dude**

you went on this thirteen text rant on how you hate

colds and how your nose was being a bitch so i thought

you might have crashed early ^^

_ 21:13 _

 

**To: National Silver Medalist Dude**

nahhh sleep is for the weak whats up

_ 21:13 _

 

**From: National Silver Medalist Dude**

nothing just wondering if you wanted to hang out

_ 21:14 _

 

That’s Youngjae-speak for  _ I’ve got a problem, come talk to me,  _ and Jaebum’s tapping out a reply faster than he thought possible.

 

**To: National Silver Medalist Dude**

sure why not

_ 21:14 _

 

**To: National Silver Medalist Dude**

meet you at the park?

_ 21:14 _

 

It’s barely five seconds before Youngjae responds in the affirmative and Jaebum almost sprints out of the apartment before he remembers that he has a bit of dignity, stopping to grab a large handkerchief for his bitch of a nose. Youngjae’s waiting under their usual tree, hood over his head and scarf around his neck. The cold is beginning to set in, and Jaebum regrets not bringing a thicker jacket, but he hadn’t stopped to think. He’s been noticing that lately he’s not been thinking much around Youngjae.

 

“Hello,” smiles Youngjae as Jaebum walks up. “How’s your nose?”

 

“Still being awful. I wish I could break up with it,” jokes Jaebum, taking a seat next to Youngjae on the bench. A pause. “You gonna tell me what’s up?”

 

“Life just caught up with me,” drawls Youngjae almost boredly, but Jaebum knows that those words are Youngjae-speak for  _ I’ve been overthinking myself to the edge of tears again.  _ Jaebum wants to roll his eyes and slap Youngjae out of it, but that seems rather out of character for him when it comes to Youngjae, so he just keep quiet and lets Youngjae find words.

 

“My old coach wants me to come back to Mokpo and start training for next year’s championship. I told him I didn’t want to, but he’s trying to guilt me into it, saying that I’ll waste all my talent or some bullshit like that,” rants Youngjae, speaking angrily to the floor as Jaebum watches him. “He’s an old friend of my parents, so they can’t tell him to fuck off, so he’s using that to his advantage.”

 

“That’s so fucked up, what an asshole!” exclaims Jaebum. Honestly, playing The Guilt Game™ is one of the worst things in the world and something that Jaebum hates with a passion.

 

“I know, right?” Youngjae lets out a relieved laugh. “I needed someone to say that for me, I didn’t want to say it myself.”

 

“Don’t worry, I will always be here to call people assholes for you,” assures Jaebum, patting Youngjae’s shoulder and eliciting a laugh from the younger. “I’m serious.”

 

“Yeah, I know how much you love calling people assholes,” replies Youngjae, smiling his warm smile that causes Jaebum’s heart to suddenly malfunction for a couple seconds. What the hell was that? He laughs to try and alleviate the slight shock he feels but his laugh gets stuck in his throat, causing him to cough.

 

Youngjae looks alarmed for a second before patting Jaebum on the back. “You didn’t even bring a proper jacket, are you fucking stupid?”

 

“How come you bring out the swearing only when it comes to me?” whines Jaebum, lips turning upwards into a pout.

 

“Because you are a stupid idiot, and there’s no lie to that,” sasy Youngjae plainly, unwinding his scarf from his neck. “Honestly, who walks out of the house without a proper jacket when they have a cold, for God’s sake?”

 

“Hey, I’m older, you brat. Don’t call me stupid. I do things for reasons,” sniffs Jaebum faux-condescendingly.  _ And that reason was that you texted,  _ Jaebum wants to say, but that doesn’t sound like an excuse that can be said without expecting eyebrows to be raised at it. Does that excuse to avoid that excuse make sense? Jaebum isn’t sure. A lot of things don’t make sense anymore. 

 

Just like the sudden way that his words get ripped from his mouth when Youngjae takes his own scarf and wraps it around Jaebum’s neck instead, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, finishing by squishing Jaebum’s face together with a stern(ish) reprimand. “Stupid reasons, no doubt. Take care of yourself.”

 

“Yes, mom,” attempts Jaebum feebly, but it seems to satisfy Youngjae, who smiles, satisfied, and Jaebum’s heart does that stupid malfunctioning thing again.

 

And that’s when Im Jaebum first starts considering the possibility that he might just have a crush on Choi Youngjae.

 

=

 

“You’re looking happier these days,” comments Mark, ruffling Jaebum’s hair as he passes the younger sprawled out on the couch.

 

“Huh?” asks Jaebum, looking up from the phone with a huge, dorky grin plastered all over his face.

 

Mark shakes his head with an affectionate smile, thinking that his little immature brat Jaebum’s finally growing up. “Nothing.”

 

=

 

“I think he might like you,” says Kunpimook out of the blue one day.

 

Youngjae nearly chokes on the water he’s pouring into his mouth. Kunpimook always seems to drop lines like that when Youngjae is drinking water. “What are you talking about?”

 

“He. Likes. You,” mouths Kunpimook. Youngjae raises his eyebrows. “He’s looking over and that’s why I’m not saying it that loud.”

 

Youngjae knows who’s being referred to, so he looks behind Kunpimook to spy a very familiar ravenet a couple courts away. Yup, he’s looking that way, smiling when he catches Youngjae’s eye. Youngjae waves back. “What did you expect? We’re friends.”

 

“ _ Friends, _ ” hisses Kunpimook teasingly. “Sure, sure.”

 

“I’m serious. He doesn’t like me—” hisses Youngjae before he is interrupted by a loud voice, belonging to Kunpimook’s newest friend (and thereby Youngjae’s as well) at the sports club, Jackson Wang. “Who doesn’t like you? Who can actually not like you?” Jackson teases, cutting in mid-conversation.

 

“No one, hyung,” says Youngjae hurriedly, fixing his worried expression into a nonchalant grin.

 

“Alright, if you say so. You know that if someone doesn’t like you, I can be trusted to beat them up, hon.” Jackson nods firmly, giving Kunpimook a fist bump. “And Bam, my man, I need my pen drive.”

 

“Yup, I actually remembered to bring it his time,” says Kunpimook, skipping off to wherever the heck he’s kept his bag. Youngjae remembers Kunpimook’s freak out session from a couple weeks ago.  _ Did you know, hyung? He has the whole Supernatural series! With subtitles and all!  _ TV shows were the only things that Kunpimook cared about, and this one in particular.

 

Jackson asks Youngjae how his life is going, and they strike up a conversation on the lack of time that they’re both (along with the rest of the world) struggling with. Jackson talks about his newly developed interest in fencing with a passionate light in his eyes that amuses Youngjae. Jackson also makes stupid jokes in the middle, that get Youngjae laughing, because the jokes are just so bad and that’s what makes them funny. Youngjae has always had an affinity for bad jokes. It comes from all the time growing up spent listening to his father’s atrocious puns.

 

Kunpimook takes quite a while to hunt down the pen drive, after which he joins the conversation, interjecting with his own take on fencing and how he doesn’t see the point in pretending to kill people for fun, but Youngjae disagrees with him, prompting Jackson put a friendly arm around him as they trash Kunpimook together. They’re in the middle of arguing about what updates would make fencing ‘cooler’, when Mark walks up to Jackson, quietly tapping him on the shoulder. “You coming to play a match, Jacks?”

 

“A few minutes, I’ll just convince Bam that paintball is not cooler than fencing,” says Jackson, waving Mark off.

 

“They’re essentially of the exact same principle,” informs Mark, his smile looking rather painful. “Now seriously, come for a match. Winner buys lunch.”

 

The mention of food perks Jackson up real quick. “Oh, you’re on, baby.”

 

As they’re leaving the badminton area, Youngjae watches as Mark turns once more as though to check on someone, following Mark’s gaze to—yup, he expected it. Jaebum, who’s calmly observing the strings on his racquet, face as expressionless as one carved from stone.

 

“Binch, I fucking told you so,” hisses Kunpimook.

 

Youngjae looks at him as though seriously considering the possibility, but it seems too outrageous to be true. “Nahhh.” He refuses to believe anything that might cause him to regret believing that later.

 

=

 

Even though he refuses to believe the slightest (not so slight) hints that his detective senses (and Kunpimook’s detective senses) pick up along the way, Youngjae can’t help but find his staunch refusal to believe getting eroded as the time that he spends with Jaebum increases.

 

He can see it in the way Jaebum’s smile begins to mirror his, all the shoved down emotions behind each one. He can see it the way that Jaebum lets his hand linger a little longer on Youngjae’s arm as they’re talking. He can see in the way that he’s not always the first one starting a conversation—texting or real life—anymore. He can see it in the way he can’t say that they’re friends and sounds like he’s all that serious that that is all it is anymore. They’re in some weird in-between phase, when there are words that should be said but aren’t being said, but they’re doing fine without any of it being said. For now at least.

 

It’s rather carefree. Uncomplicated. Youngjae likes it.

 

It is a bright Saturday morning when Youngjae finds himself outside Jaebum’s apartment door, annoyed that all his phone calls are going to voicemail and not happy that he had to drag himself all the way here. He was supposed to meet Jaebum downstairs. They had a food festival to attend. Did Im Jaebum have no priorities in his life? What a shame.

 

Youngjae puts out his hand to knock on the door but it opens before his hand can make contact. The one who opened the door, however, is Mark and not Jaebum, to Youngjae’s disappointment.

 

“Youngjae, hi,” smiles Mark in greeting. “You here for Jaebum?”

 

“Uh, yeah. We’re going to that food festival today. Are you planning on going?” Youngjae asks out of courtesy, while simultaneously feeling a little guilty because he doesn’t want Mark to come along as well.

 

“No, I don’t think so. My stupid boyfriend sent me an SOS message saying that he needs help on some paper so I have to go over and help him. Maybe if we finish the paper quick, we’ll come join you guys.” Oh. Youngjae didn’t know that Mark had a boyfriend. The way his face lights up when he says the words ‘my stupid boyfriend’ is adorable. Youngjae wonders what kind of person Mark would date. It makes an amusing thought, for Mark is an amusing person.

 

“Okay, we’ll maybe see you guys then,” nods Youngjae. “Is Jaebum ready? I haven’t been able to reach his phone.”

 

“Ready?” Mark chuckles. “He isn’t even up yet. One of his lectures got postponed to the late evening yesterday and he was so exhausted after it that he just passed out and hasn’t woken up since. He’ll be up in another hour, that’s my estimate.”

 

“Oh.” 

 

“Unless you wanted to go wake him up. Which I’m sure he wouldn’t kick you for,” says Mark, with a sarcastic smile, which prompts Youngjae to give him a look. “No, I’m serious. He wouldn’t kick you for waking him up. Go for it.” Mark flicks his head towards the interior of the house, as though telling Youngjae to knock himself out.

 

Youngjae takes a hesitant step inside, but Mark nods and says a quick goodbye after his phone buzzes once more—probably his stupid boyfriend panicking—so that leaves Youngjae alone with a silent house. Should he go wake Jaebum up?

 

Well, they’re friends enough for that, there’s no doubt there. And Jaebum was the one who was so hyped about the food festival in the first place. It wouldn’t be fair to him to let him sleep through it.

 

So that’s why Youngjae finds himself pushing open the door of the slightly ajar bedroom door. There are two beds, one of each side of the room. One is neatly made, and the other is occupied, which is the one that Youngjae walks over to.

 

Somehow people always seem to look a lot less intimidating when they’re sleeping, and Jaebum is no exception. His face is soft and puffy, squished adorably against his pillow as his eyes are blissfully closed. Youngjae wonders what he’s dreaming about, for about two seconds before he shakes Jaebum’s shoulder roughly. “Yah, Im Jaebum.”

 

A soft groan, before Jaebum buries his face completely in the pillow and falls asleep again. Youngjae shakes him again. “Wake up, I believe there are a hundred different varieties of food waiting to be tasted, and you wouldn’t want to miss any of that.” 

 

Jaebum holds up his palm. “Five minutes,” he slurs sleepily, just in case Youngjae didn’t understand.

 

Youngjae has been in the five minute scenario way too many times to take it seriously anymore. He knows that Five Minutes™ will morph into Five More Minutes™ which will morph into Fuck It, I Just Want To Sleep™, and Youngjae is not willing to deal with that. He holds onto Jaebum’s wrist and tugs. “Up and at ‘em, hyung. We’re not missing this. We need to catch the bus, come on.”

 

Jaebum whines like a child, and Youngjae sighs in a rather maternal manner, tugging Jaebum’s wrist once more. “Hyung.”

 

Jaebum twists his hand and wraps it around Youngjae’s wrist instead, and Youngjae is so surprised by the maneuver that he falls over onto the bed immediately when Jaebum pulls him. Jaebum throws an arm and a leg over Youngjae, depriving him of the privilege of movement, not that Youngjae really wants to move. His back is pressed against Jaebum’s chest and both the bed and Jaebum are soft and comfortable.

 

“Five more minutes, Jae,” mumbles Jaebum, and Youngjae’s heart skips a beat at how close he is. He should’ve gotten used to close proximity now, but this is a whole new level of close proximity, and Youngjae doesn’t see how this is fair because his heart is going through a bunch because of this. Jaebum shouldn’t have this kind of effect on him. Too bad he has virtually no say.

 

Youngjae huffs, like he’s highly annoyed with the situation but he also is an obliging lil bean. “Alright.”

 

“You’re the best, Jae,” says Jaebum, a smile spun into his words as he presses a soft kiss to the back of Youngjae’s head. Youngjae’s cheeks burn, and he tries stuffing down a smile but it’s not really working. 

 

“I know, be thankful you have me,” retorts Youngjae, eliciting a small sleepy laugh from Jaebum. Again, not fair. He shouldn’t have this effect on Youngjae, dammit!

 

Unfortunately, Youngjae falls to the snare of Five More Minutes™ and ends up sleeping as well, because apparently comfortable fluffy beds and clingy comfortable crushes make the spell of slumber rather hard to resist. When he opens his eyes again, he realizes that he’s in very unfamiliar surroundings, and once he registers his very unfamiliar surroundings, he realizes that Jaebum got up without him, leaving him alone in the bed.

 

Youngjae sighs. The harsh light streaming in through the window suggests that it’s close to midday, and they’ve definitely missed the bus to get to the town of the food festival. With a sleepy groan, he drags himself out of the bed and leaves the bedroom, finding Jaebum in the small kitchen, staring at the toaster with a dead look on his face. 

 

There are two possible explanations. One, he is contemplating upon the deep psychological meaning of toast in our universe and is wondering what exactly is the purpose of baking dough twice. Two, he’s just too sleepy to realize that the toaster is done toasting his bread.

 

Youngjae walks over to take a seat on the kitchen counter, and that’s when Jaebum snaps out of his sleep-induced toast reverie to look up and smile guiltily. “Sorry that five minutes turned into five hours.”

 

Youngjae rubs his eye, shooting him a sleepy smile. “Issokay. You were the one who was so excited about going anyway, so it’s all on you.” His head falls over, still weighing with the sleep and he waves Jaebum over. The older walks over with an bemused look, one that turns into an amused one when Youngjae tells him to stop so he can rest his head against Jaebum’s chest.

 

“Now just stay like this,” orders Youngjae. “I need my sleep support.”

 

Jaebum laughs, and the vibrations of his chest can be felt by Youngjae, who resists the urge to pull him closer and hug him. “I’m not built to be a sleep support,” he informs, patting Youngjae’s head. “Are you hungry? I was thinking of ordering takeout. Toast is the only thing I have here and so, yeah.”

 

Youngjae holds up a thumbs-up. This is too domestic for his own health. Kunpimook is going to have a field day with this.

 

=

 

“You two make a good match, you know?” jokes Mark on one night that they stay up on a movie marathon.

 

Jaebum knows who he’s referring to, and laughs. “That’s a really bad joke, you know?”

 

“Yeah, I know. But bad joke, good match, right?” wheedles Mark, as though trying to get him to admit it.

 

Jaebum smiles softly, looking away. “Sure, why not.”

 

=

 

Youngjae is still a little flabbergasted, very disoriented. He’s not sure if what happened just happened, because it all seems like the plot of some messed up sitcom, and he’s pretty sure he could write it all out in script form. Hell, he might even score a contract with this level of wackiness. Only the fact remains that it all happened in real life, and that most definitely not a caffeine-induced dream, and that’s why Youngjae is just so confused and upset right now.

 

Youngjae and Jaebum had planned to go to movies, since the next Star Wars had come out and Youngjae loved Star Wars with his entire essence and simple had to go, no other option. Yugyeom and Kunpimook also loved Star Wars, so they decided to come along as well, sniggering about Yugyeom was finally going to officially meet Proudheart the Petty. Jaebum had no objections to that, so it was going to go fine. Jaebum had asked Youngjae to come and pick him up because his house was nearer to the theatre, and maybe that was the bad idea.

 

Well, it’s not like the entire ordeal would’ve been prevented if they hadn’t gone up to Jaebum’s apartment, but maybe the damage wouldn’t have been as huge, because that was when all hell broke loose. This was how it went, brought to you by Scary Reliving Productions, sponsored by Youngjae’s Mind.

 

**JAEBUM:** [ _ opening the door after Youngjae knocked _ ] “Hey Youngj—”

 

**YUGYEOM:** [ _ dramatically stabs finger at Jaebum’s face _ ] “A-HA! I knew it was you!”

 

**JAEBUM:** [ _ startled _ ] “Yu-Yugyeom?”

 

**YOUNGJAE:** “You know him?”

 

**VERY FAMILIAR VOICE:** “Yugyeom?”

 

**YUGYEOM:** [ _ peeks inside house, surprised _ ] “Jinyoung hyung?”

 

[ _ Youngjae, startled, looks into the living room as Jaebum pulls the door open, revealing a sight of Yugyeom’s cousin, the Supposedly Perfect™ Park Jinyoung, resting on the couch with Mark’s arms around him. A surprised look is one his face and his hands are clutching his book too tight as he takes in the sight of the three standing at the door. _ ]

 

 **JINYOUNG:** [ _looking kind of suspicious and threatened_ ] “Yugyeom, Bam, Youngjae. What are you guys doing here?”

 

**YOUNGJAE:** [ _ not understanding what is going on _ ] “We came to pick Jaebum hyung up. We’re going to The Last Jedi.”

 

**JINYOUNG:** [ _ turning to Jaebum _ ] “You hang out with my cousin now?”

 

**JAEBUM:** [ _ defensively _ ] “NO! I didn’t even know he was coming!”

 

**YUGYEOM:** [ _ cutting in _ ] “Here’s a more important question. You have a boyfriend, hyung?”

 

[ _ A freeze sets into the atmosphere as all eyes turn to Jinyoung, who looks horrifically guilty, and Mark, who looks clueless. _ ]

 

**JINYOUNG:** [ _ softly _ ] “Yeah, maybe I do.”

 

**YUGYEOM:** “I take it that it never occured to you to tell me?”

 

**JINYOUNG:** “Maybe I didn’t want to.”

 

**KUNPIMOOK:** “That’s not exactly fair.”

 

**JINYOUNG:** [ _ frowns _ ] “Who asked you?”

 

**KUNPIMOOK:** “I’m his best friend! It doesn’t take a genius to say that hiding things isn’t fair!”

 

**JINYOUNG:** “Well, obviously. You don’t strike me as any kind of genius.”

 

**JAEBUM:** “I think that was uncalled for.”

 

**JINYOUNG:** “Here’s a question. Why are they here to pick you up? I don’t think Yugyeom would voluntarily hang out with you. He hasn’t talked to you in three years, at least by my recollection.”

 

 **YOUNGJAE:** [ _to Jaebum_ ] “I’m still confused. How did you know Yugyeom three years ago?”

 

**JAEBUM:** [ _ looks extremely guilty _ ] “Circumstances.”

 

**YOUNGJAE:** [ _ impatient _ ] “What circumstances?”

 

**JINYOUNG:** [ _ calmly _ ] “We used to go out.”

 

[ _ A pregnant pause as Youngjae takes that in, eyes flicking from an embarrassed Jaebum to a stone-faced Jinyoung, the truth sinking in. This is too twisted to process, as shown by the way Youngjae’s furrowed eyebrows smoothen out into a wide-eyed look of realization. _ ]

 

**YOUNGJAE:** “Oh.”

 

**JINYOUNG:** “Now I have a question for you. How do you know Jaebum?”

 

**MARK:** [ _ softly _ ] “Jinyoungie, they’re like… dating.”

 

**JINYOUNG:** [ _ all but exploding _ ] “Choi Youngjae, you’re dating him?!”

 

**YOUNGJAE & JAEBUM: ** “WHAT?! NO!”

 

**MARK:** [ _ confused _ ] “You’re not?” [ _ gestures wildly _ ] “But—that can’t—I thought—you just—you’re  _ not _ dating?”

 

**JAEBUM:** [ _ red-faced with a deep scowl _ ] “Of course not!”

 

[ _ Youngjae is mildly (read: heavily) offended by the tone of that statement, wondering if it was really that bad, the thought of dating him. _ ]

 

**YOUNGJAE:** [ _ scoffs _ ] “Like, honestly, in what universe would we date each other? That’s such a weird thought—”

 

**YUGYEOM:** [ _ snidely _ ] “Really? It’s not that weird a thought.”

 

**YOUNGJAE:** [ _ glaring at Yugyeom _ ] “The point here is that we’re not dating. That’s not happening.”

 

[ _ They are words spat out of anger, of hurt, but it seems to have more of an effect than intended. Or maybe the effect was intended. _ ]

 

**JAEBUM:** [ _ about to glare before fixing his face into a pained smile _ ] “Exactly.” [ _ his voice softens, hurting Youngjae _ ] “That’s all there is to it.”

 

**JINYOUNG:** [ _ shrugging nonchalantly _ ] “Well then, enjoy your movie, I guess.”

 

**JAEBUM:** “Actually, I’ll pass on that. I don’t like Star Wars all that much either way.”

 

[ _ exit Jaebum _ ]

 

**YUGYEOM:** “You know what? We’re not done talking.” [ _ shoots Jinyoung a glare and warns him that he’s watching him with a gesture _ ]

 

**KUNPIMOOK:** [ _ tugging Youngjae’s arm _ ] “Come on, Sunshine, we’re leaving. We’ve gotta go watch Luke die.”

 

**YUGYEOM:** [ _ slapping Kunpimook’s chest _ ] “Did I just hear a spoiler, bitch?”

 

[ _ Youngjae, deep in his self-hate and self-pity, ceases to care. _ ]

 

=

 

Mark apologizes way too many times, but Jaebum tells him to forget about it, because not only is it over and he can’t do anything about it anymore, but also the fact remains, that explosion was bound to happen anyway, and this was one of the ways it had to end. He thinks he’ll be able to go without seeing Youngjae, that it’ll be be fine if he gives it time, that he’ll be able to go back to his life the way it was before Youngjae walked in and messed it up.

 

Why had Jaebum let Youngjae mess with his life that much, though? Why did he not object when that smile, that laugh, that hilarious personality began messing with his heart? Why did he not object on all the times when he had been going through his moods, when Youngjae had been there to snap him out of? Why did he not object after being beaten by Youngjae over and over in badminton, regardless of the hits that his ego took, hits so frequent that they dulled to nothing? Why did he not object during all those conversations?

 

The answer is simple. It was because he liked all of that. He liked spending time with Youngjae. He liked knowing that he was the reason behind that bright, bright laugh. He liked how his mood lifted to a happier level around Youngjae. He liked how someone was there when he needed to get something off his chest. He liked all of that.

 

He liked Youngjae. He likes Youngjae.

 

He thought Youngjae liked him back. And he’d been mistaken. Painfully, awfully mistaken.

 

Now, three weeks after they stopped talking, Jaebum decides that it’s not worth it anymore. He’s standing in the kitchen, staring at his phone, going over his options. He wants to call Youngjae up and talk it over. He doesn’t even care if Youngjae doesn’t reciprocate his feelings. He just wants to go back to being friends with Youngjae again. That’s all he’s asking for, because he didn’t even know how important that friendship was to him until it had all gone to shit.

 

Jinyoung walks up to the opposite side of the island countertop. “Call him.”

 

Jaebum looks up, not sure if Jinyoung is completely speaking shit or if he hit the nail on the head. “Call who?”

 

Jinyoung gives him a look. “You know who I’m talking about. Call Youngjae. He’s about as much of a mess as you are.”

 

Jaebum’s defenses go up. “I’m not a mess.”

 

“I can still read your face, you know? Old habits die really, really hard,” informs Jinyoung with a smile. Jaebum’s gotten used to him more recently, even managing to have a conversation with him even if Mark isn’t a part of it. He respects the way that Jinyoung keeps Mark happy, because that’s all he wants for Mark.

 

Maybe that’s what he wants for himself too, to find someone who makes him happy. He stares at the phone again.

 

“If you don’t call him, I will forcefully take the phone from you, call him and tell him about how you stole Mark’s pen drive and watched Descendants of the Sun four times over in one week,” threatens Jinyoung with a smirk, and Jaebum glares at him. “I’m kidding. Put yourself together, you big baby.”

 

Jaebum sticks his tongue out at him, as though proving a point, and steps outside the apartment to make the call. His phone hovers over the contact name for a couple seconds before he jabs it with a vengeance, as though proving to himself that he is strong enough to do this.

 

One ring…

 

Two rings…

 

Three rings—

 

“ _ Hello? _ ”

 

“Youngjae? Hey, it’s me.” Jaebum’s heart jumps to his throat. It’s been a while since he heard that voice, and he’s missed it so much.

 

“ _ Hey. _ ”

 

A pause as Jaebum collects himself. “Okay, look, I know we haven’t talked in a while, and that’s my fault. So, I just wanted to apologize and tell you that I hope that we can go back to being friends again. I’m really sorry, I hope you know that.”

 

Another pause, and Jaebum’s worried Youngjae might hang up on him. “ _ I’m sorry too. It’s not your fault. But here’s the thing. I can’t go on anymore just being friends. I couldn’t say this before but I promised myself I’d tell you if I ever spoke to you again and I guess that’s now. I really, really like you, hyung. I get that you might not want to want to be friends after this but I had to get it out— _ ”

 

“Do me a favor and stop right there. If we’re doing confessions, I’m not going to be left out.” Jaebum’s heartbeat accelerates with his speech. “I couldn’t bring myself to say it either, but I guess I can say it now. I really like you, Youngjae. And I don’t get why we’re doing this over the phone.”

 

A small, relieved laugh. “ _ Too bad I can’t run to wherever you’re at, hyung. I’m at Seoul Tech at the moment. I decided to start going for competitions again, and I’m in the final, which is going to happen in about half an hour. _ ”

 

“Okay, then I’ll be right there.” Jaebum feels a little giddy as he hangs up. He runs inside and yells at Mark, who’s on his phone, effectively also scaring Jinyoung, who’s flipping through a book on the couch. “OKAY, I’M FREAKING OUT BUT GUESS WHAT? MY CRUSH LIKES ME BACK AND I’M NOT CARING ABOUT HOW LOUD I AM RIGHT NOW!” He does a little skip-victory jump thing, making Mark burst into laughter, before running from the house.

 

He reaches Seoul Tech in a little more than twenty minutes. He didn’t know the sports meet was going on this week. He hasn’t been to the sports club in a while, and he’s ignored all announcements at uni, so this is a surprise. He checks the schedule and makes his way to the badminton courts, which are empty but for a few people milling around and waiting for the last match.

 

Jaebum looks at the far end of the court and spies Youngjae, standing and chatting animatedly with Kunpimook and Yugyeom. The universe decides to be kind to Jaebum, because Youngjae turns to catch his eye, and his grin turns brighter, if that's even possible. Youngjae says something to Kunpimook and Yugyeom, and they give him a thumbs-up and leave, letting Jaebum walk over to, small hesitant steps because he doesn’t want to seem like it’s as huge a deal as it actually is to him.

 

“Hey, you,” greets Jaebum, smile turning a little shy to mirror Youngjae’s.

 

“Hey,” smiles Youngjae. “How’s it going?”

 

“Better now,” admits Jaebum sincerely.

 

Youngjae chuckles and raises a hand to cover his face. “Already?”

 

“Should I not?” asks Jaebum worriedly. “‘Cause I can not, if that’s what you want.”

 

Youngjae hits his chest. “No, be that way. It’s cute.”

 

“Yeah, that’s you now.” Jaebum slides his hands into his pocket and looks at the floor abashedly. The spectators are beginning to fill the stands again, and from the general hustle and bustle, it seems like the match will be starting soon. “Well, I better go get a good place so you can hear my annoyingly loud cheering.” Youngjae laughs at that, and Jaebum turns back at the last minute, blurting out the words before he loses his confidence. “Need some good luck?”

 

There’s a very clear implication, and Youngjae gets it, judging by the way he ducks his head for a second and then looks up with pinkish cheeks. “Yeah, I guess I could use some.”

 

Jaebum accesses his inherent shamelessness, taking the couple steps forward to close the gap between them, leaning forward to place a short, sweet kiss on Youngjae’s lips, which are slightly chapped but very, very warm. He pulls away quick, too quick for him and nods in a satisfied manner, a dorky grin on his face. He begins to turn and walk away but—“Wait.”

 

He turns and Youngjae strides towards him, wrapping his arms around Jaebum’s neck once he’s close enough and pressing their lips together. Now  _ this  _ is a kiss. Jaebum wraps one arm around Youngjae, using his other hand to cup Youngjae’s face. He can hear his heartbeat in his head and feel Youngjae’s lips curving into a smile before they finally pull apart, Youngjae whispering, “I think I might have gotten a little greedy.”

 

Jaebum chuckles. “That’s okay. I got a lot of good luck. Just make sure you get it from me.”

 

Youngjae runs his fingers through Jaebum’s hair, and a warm feeling spreads through Jaebum’s chest. “‘M not getting it anywhere else.”

 

Jaebum places one more soft kiss on Youngjae’s lips. “Do well.”

 

Youngjae walks into the match on a cloud, which remains his throne for the rest of the game, because he literally flies through the match, beating his opponent 15-11, 15-8. As Youngjae walks off the field, Kunpimook and Yugyeom squish him together in a huge group hug, their screaming and laughter filling the air as they all jump and down in victory.

 

Jaebum stands a little away, giving Youngjae time until he finally walks up to Jaebum, walking right into the hug waiting for him. Over Youngjae’s shoulder, he can see Kunpimook’s and Yugyeom’s shocked faces, and thinks that Youngjae might have some explaining to do later. Jaebum and Youngjae sway from foot to foot in a adorably ridiculous and extremely long hug.

 

“It was a good match,” says Youngjae joyfully.

 

“Yeah,” agrees Jaebum, pressing a kiss to Youngjae’s forehead while Mark’s stupid little joke comes to mind. “It was a good match.”

 

=


End file.
